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lovestaysblogs · 1 month

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this is so beautiful. beautifully written and a beautiful story.

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

#z recs #hyunjin fics

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

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u are so reallll

SICK ALEXA (2024)

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

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he’s backkkk????? omg omg omggg !! i’m so excited for the third part eeeee!!

THE EXPERIENCE PROJECT | EP. 2 SECOND GUESSES

“You’re such a good girl, hm? I finally figured out how to turn you into a good girl for me, princess.”

[ abstract ]: Hyunjin—your long time crush—finally wants to ask you out. One small issue: you’re absolutely inexperienced regarding that matter. Going on dates and, yes, also everything physical. Gladly, Minho—your long time enemy who is part of your friend group—is there to help, teaching you all you need to know. Going on dates and, yes, also everything physical. All while he dearly hopes you won’t find out about the crush he has had on you for years.

[ general ]: minho + fem reader, [ hyunjin + fem reader ], enemies → lovers, college au, smut + angst + fluff, experienced minho, virgin reader, sunshine x grumpy, he falls first but she falls harder, please refer to series m.list for more info

[ warning ]: explicit sexual scene [ softdom minho, corruption kink, masturbation, slight exhibitionism, fingering ], very brief mention of cigarette smoking and drinking alcohol, lots of messy emotions :(((

[ words ]: 6.7K

[ note ]: the second part is here. Thank you SO MUCH for all the kind feedback on the first part I am still so shocked?? I would have never expected so many people to read and like it. I seriously feel so honoured 🌸 If you enjoyed this part too I’d appreciate it a lot to read your thoughts about how this story unfolds. Make sure to reblog/comment/send an ask my way! 🩷

To say you’ve had a very pleasant dream about Minho last night would be an understatement. He doesn’t seem to leave your mind, constantly keeping you occupied with thinking of him and the way his lips felt attached to your own. His touch still lingers on your body, how he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer, guiding you through your high without even needing to take off your clothes.

You would say no man has ever achieved that but, yeah, obviously no man has ever achieved that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have this contract and agreement with Minho. He’s here to help and tutor you (his words) until Hyunjin and you get closer. Hyunjin. Right. Your long time crush. There are only a few days left before he comes back and until then you still have some time to meet up with Minho and while all this is happening, get through the first week of this new semester. You’ve always hated Mondays—well, who doesn’t? But Mondays on a fresh start of a new college year are even worse. Nothing can come close to last semester when you spend the first seven days crying your heart out because Hyunjin left for Paris, but it’s still a rather annoying day.

Felix—the sunshine he is—made some breakfast for you, reminding you that you need lots of energy to get through your first classes. The two of you head to campus together and part your ways before you enter the building where your first course will be. Sinking down on one of the chairs further in the back of the room, you grab out all the stuff you need and check your phone another time. No message from Hyunjin. And neither a message from Minho although you don’t quite get why you’ve been secretly hoping for him to text you.

Suddenly, the seat next to you gets occupied, when a girl your age sits down and shoots a soft smile your way. “Hey, I’m Areum. Is this seat taken?” The name rings a bell but then again, there are a lot of people on this campus and many different personalities you’ve gotten into conversations with these past three years. “Please sit down. I’m Y/N,” you say, giving her a smile back. She looks at you as if she’s heard your name before as well but you try to not read too much into it.

“I’m excited what this course is gonna be like,” the girl says, starting some small talk. It’s unusual for people in your classes to chat with one another but since you’ve heard this one is gonna be a course where you have to partner up—you hate those—it’s probably smart to talk to whoever is sitting next to you.

“Oh, same! Although I’ve heard that the professor is pretty strict,” you say. Areum giggles and you watch her brown hair wave around. She gives you a soft glance, as you take in the scent of her perfume that lingers in the air. You usually don’t feel insecure about your appearances but sitting next to a woman dressed like this—a business outfit and stilettos, a flawless crimson red lipstick and hair hair half up with a butterfly clip that has pearls attached to it—makes you wonder if you look a little silly in your yellow dress and the lemon earrings you are wearing. When you see the men entering the room looking her way, it only gets worse. God, why are you like this? She seems nice and you are in no position to judge her. But sometimes, when we meet new people, something just feels off about them and we aren’t able to explain what the unjustified issue we have. Okay, calm down. It’s literally nothing.

“He is a bit strict, yes,” Areum starts, “but if you do your coursework on time and participate in every class, it’s gonna be fine. I have attended some of his courses before. No need to worry.”

You nod, “That’s good! Are you in your last year too?”

“I am. I’m not sure if we’ve met each other before but I could swear I’ve seen you around,” she says. It seems as if she had the same thought as you. “I had a similar feeling. But I can’t explain where or when.”

Areum reaches into her purse, grabbing some mint gums and offering one to you which you accept. The door of the classroom swings open and you wait for the professor to get inside but instead someone else is revealed. No, how high are the odds? Your rommate’s gym crush takes the seat in front of you, placing his backpack on the floor before he turns around. He sends a smile—that looks more like a smirk—to the girl next to you, as he greets her. “Areum, hey, how’s it going?”

Oh, so they know each other?

“Fine, Binnie. How’ve you been?” she replies. It’s him. Felix’s crush Changbin. “Great, great. Minho isn’t with you?”

Areum rolls her eyes.

Wait, what?

Is he talking about your Minho? Well, not your your Minho but the Minho that you know. The one that you visited yesterday and made sign a makeshift contract on your iPad that the two of you are gonna have sex with each other in the name of science? Is Areum perhaps Minho’s ex girlfriend that he has never really talked that much about despite the fact that they had been together for quite some time?

“I told you we broke up…”

Oh, fuck. It’s her. It must be.

“You know Minho? Lee Minho?” you ask her now, moving your body around to see her full face. As if this would answer the question because, once again, Minho had never introduced his back then partner to anyone in the group. Which is a big red flag. Perhaps, Jisung has met her but you aren’t sure about that. Was it that smart to start some tutoring lessons with Minho of all people?

“Yeah, he’s my ex. You know him too?” Areum tilts her head and looks at you like a fawn. It makes sense, she kind of has similarities with the animal. You chuckle, while your lemon earrings start dangling around.

“N-Not that well.” I just came all over his thigh last night and my lips got all puffy from making out with him. We also signed a contract that he is gonna take my virginity in order to teach me how to pleasure his good friend Hyunjin. “My friends are friends with him but that’s it.” You’re such a bad liar. Well, Minho can’t be considered your friend after all. However, you are still closer than normal acquaintances or even enemies would ever be.

“Waaait. Now it all makes sense,” Areum lets out and you can basically observe a lightbulb appear above her head. “You are Y/L/N Y/N, aren’t you?”

“Yup, that’s me!” you reply, awkwardly waving your hand as if you are introducing yourself another time. Changbin turns around in the meantime when another guy he seems to know plops down on the chair next to him. Your attention is fully on Areum, who is reaching for your hands to place them into her own as if you are best friends. She’s smiling brightly, perfectly white teeth almost blinding you, as she shakes your hands.

“I’ve heard lots of things about you,” she says, absolutely amazed and you don’t know what to think about it.

“I hope only good things though,” you half-jokingly answer.

“Of course, dear,” she reassures you. “It’s a shame that Minho has never introduced us. Well, to be fair, his lack of participation when it comes to getting introduced to friends and family was the main reason why the relationship ended but I don’t want to bore you with stuff like this.”

Yeah. Back to the walking red flag called Minho’s approach on his last relationship. You remember when he casually mentioned a girlfriend in a conversation with your friend group and all of you started wondering why he hadn't told you earlier. Sure, there are people in this world that keep all things private but there’s still a slight chance for another reason being there. You probably won’t ever find out and it doesn’t really matter to you anyway, right?

“I’m sorry about that Areum,” you say then but she tells you that everything is alright and it’s not your fault. Oh, if you only knew, Y/N. There is in fact a reason why Minho was so hesitant to introduce his now ex to the friend group but if that ever reaches you he might as well leave the country and adapt a new identity.

You get startled when your phone that’s placed with the screen up on the table receives a message, the device vibrating on the wooden surface. Your eyes snap towards the source of the noise, reading a notification of none other than the ex boyfriend of the girl who is currently sitting next to you. Fuck. You reach for it, clumsily trying to lock it again but successfully failing your attempt. Watching your phone drop down, you listen to the sound of it hitting the floor.

“Oh, Y/N, be careful,” Areum says, reaching for your device and picking it up. You pray that she doesn’t read the notification and when she gives you back your phone, you see that she respectfully didn’t catch a glimpse of your screen. “Thank you,” you say, taking it back, before your eyes hover over the message.

[ Minho ]: I’m gonna pick you up at 4PM from your house. Wear something comfortable that will keep you warm.

At 4PM sharp your phone vibrates again, another message being sent by Minho in which he tells you he is here. The two of you agreed that it isn’t the smartest idea if he rings your doorbell—after all, Felix shares this apartment with you and gets suspicious about even the smallest details. You feel bad about the fact you have to kind of lie to your best friend that you are gonna meet with a friend from uni for studying, especially when he offered to go there with you. So, here you find yourself now, dressed in another bright dress—a green one this time—and apple earrings swaying back and forth that match the exact same shade. You’ve got your hair in the most comfortable style that fits you. Throwing your jacket over your shoulders after you put on your shoes, you grab your bag and leave the building.

Minho looks the same as always, a smirk on his face when he sees you stepping down the stairs, combined with the emotionless glance his eyes always shoot anyone’s way. If there was a Wikipedia entry of what a resting bitch face is, you are sure someone must have put a picture of your frenemy beside it. Wait. Frenemy? Sorry, enemy of course. A little kissing and dry humping obviously doesn’t turn you into friends or something on the verge of that. Minho nods as a way to greet you, before he tells you to follow him to the subway station close to your house. The whole way inside the public transport he doesn’t tell you where the hell you are heading to and it plays stupid games with your level of anxiety. However, you manage to get there and after an additional five minute walk you are standing in front of a building that lets your eyes widening.

“How did you know that I like ice skating?” you ask, your mouth falling agape. The request of what to wear today makes absolute sense now. How haven’t you realised? Well, in your defense you weren’t even aware that Minho knew that you love said activity.

“You’ve mentioned it once,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s nothing. Once. You mentioned it once. And he remembered it? God, you’ve gotta slow down now before your heart does jumping jacks. One could say that Minho just uses this agreement as an excuse to subtly date you but he would never admit that. He’s already too deep inside a mess he’s willingly created. Shit, you’re here with him because you want to prepare yourself for what’s yet to come with his friend Hyunjin and Minho finds himself thinking about an ideal world where you are his girlfriend. How stupid is he?

When he’s on the ice rink with you, said thoughts don’t quite get eliminated. In fact, they only grew in quantity and size. It’s a shame this is all just for or pretence. One could think it’s weird he is even taking you here, after all he promised to teach you all the physical things you lack skills in but he is also aware that—especially regarding the dynamic between you two—he needs to build some trust first. Hopefully, it’ll help and not just make him fall even more for you. Speaking of falling—one second he doesn’t pay attention and trips over his own feet, crashing right into you. Minho swings you to the ground, almost landing on top of you. “Shit! Are you okay?”

You giggle, “I am, no worries. Are you okay though, Min?”

Min. You’ve never called him that before but he likes it, he has to admit. You use this name in all those dreams and fantasies he’s had about you, as well. Fuck. He’s gonna fall down and kiss the ice surface with his face any minute again if you keep messing with his head like this.

“Minho? You okay?” Right. You were talking to him. He clears his throat, pretending to be completely normal when he is anything but that. He’s always felt normal in his life—except for on occasions when his heart was touched. By you, to be specific. Not by any of his friends and, as sad as it sounds, not even by Areum during their relationship. Minho feels ashamed and disgusted about himself sometimes.

“I’m alright,” he manages to let out. “Another round?” You nod and help him get up again. In the process, you both almost trip and drop another time but luckily this time his strong arms hold you. God, has Minho always been this… muscular? You’re gonna go insane any time soon. You’re not entirely sure if this is such a good idea but there’s no backing off anymore. Once you start something you are gonna finish it too. That’s a trait of yourself that’s both a curse and a blessing. When the two of you are standing upright again, you cruise another few rounds on the ice rink, holding Minho’s hand whenever he starts tumbling around. You’ve wondered why he’s even invited you here but you are, firstly, a bit nervous to ask and, secondly, already sure that he probably does this to establish some bond of trust between you two for everything physical that’s about to follow. For a second you think it might be more than just this—until you get reminded again that Minho doesn’t really like you in the first place so you push those delusional thoughts aside.

However, you keep wondering why on earth he’s even agreed to this. After your first class this morning and meeting Areum, you keep thinking it must have something to do with her. Maybe he’s still not over her and uses you as a rebound. If that’s the case, you wanna be mad at him until you remember that you are technically only using him to get closer to Hyunjin too.

Oh, Y/N, this is gonna be some rough ride of a roller coaster.

You’ve been back at Minho’s apartment for a couple of minutes, he offered you something to drink but you only opted for water. It’s not like he wanted to give you alcohol anyway since the two of you know that studying works best when sober, right?

“Make yourself comfortable,” he tells you, pointing at the sofa where you sat on just yesterday. God, the images of last evening haven’t left your mind. You sink down on the soft cushion. You clear your throat while you wait for Minho to join you and half a minute later he’s there. He leaves some respectful space between the two of you, mostly to be blamed on the fact of how nervous he currently is. What the hell is this? He’s supposed to be the confident one here but somehow ends up having his heart bursting out of his chest.

“Do you have…anything on your mind? Anything you wanna try out?” Minho cringes at his own words but desperately tries to hide it. Judging from your face, he is successful with it. On top of that, you are rather occupied with your own thoughts right now. You’ve thought about a lot of things that you would like to learn from Minho. Many, many things appear inside your head when reminiscing the sensual scenes of last night.

“I.. I really liked what we did yesterday,” you confess, only now realising this is the first time you are talking about what happened twenty four hours ago. Which is quite ironic since the picture of you on top of him, straddling his lap and grinding over his muscular thigh has basically been the main focus of your thoughts since then.

“Well, thanks for the compliment,” Minho says, clicking his tongue. Shit. You forgot that you should definitely not feed him with any more praise since this man’s ego is already big enough for whatever reason. Well, you know the reason. Minho is handsome, you can’t deny that, he’s a pretty good kisser—not as if you are the best judge in this case with not knowing many people to compare him to—and hopefully has great skills beyond that, which he must have because otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to your little odd arrangement. “But what would you like to try out? We said that we would do things at your pace, so tell me what you wanna do at that pace.”

The thing is—you don’t know what you want to do. You are inexperienced, after all. It’s not like your fantasies aren’t creative but you still have no idea what your sexual preferences and perhaps even possible kinks are. Whenever you’ve tried to let your mind run free, during some lonely nights, two fingers passing your pyjama pants and playing a little with your pussy, it didn’t always get you somewhere. Sure, you’ve managed to make yourself come from time to time but it didn’t feel… great. Perhaps, you’ve been doing something wrong, who knows.

“Y/N? I need you to be honest with me,” Minho continues and for a second you wonder if he is a mind reader, “you won’t be able to have a good time with Hyunjin if you don’t even know what you yourself are into. This is the key for a good sex life, trust me. Apart from communicating with the other person which we are currently doing.”

You gulp and a nod follows. You know that he’s right. Still, you feel kinda awkward about this whole situation but you try to remind yourself that it’s alright. This is all new for you so it’s probably normal to feel a bit weird to talk about such intimate topics.

“I’m… not sure, honestly,” you admit. Minho takes a deep breath, contemplating if he should just talk further with you about this or just make a move. But then again, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. “Please don’t get mad at me for asking but when was the last time you touched yourself?”

“Uhm, I think two or three weeks ago. It didn’t get me anywhere, though, so I haven’t tried again since then.”

“Okay. Have you come before while masturbating?” You let out an awkward giggle, your arms reaching around your upper body as if you are hugging yourself. “I have… but it wasn’t the best.”

“I see, I see,” Minho says, “how about… and you can always decline—please know this, but I believe that you learn the best while doing and presenting, you know? How about you show me… how you usually do this, hm?”

Oh, God. Your heart is pumping out of you, on the verge of exploding.

“S-Show you?”

Minho shifts a little in his seat. He obviously doesn’t want to scare you off with his suggestions that he is wording but he also doesn’t want to make some mistake in just rushing things with you. He’s never been overthinking this much with a woman. He’s never worried about making mistakes but here he is. “Only if you are comfortable of course. You will guide me and tell me how to touch you. We can kiss a little and just see where things lead to, hm? You liked kissing me, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yeah… liked kissing you, hm,” you admit. That’s the little push he needs to get closer to you. It all feels as if it’s happening in slow motion, when he guardedly eliminates the space between the two of you and gets closer. You catch a glimpse of his beautiful brown eyes, your glances wandering down to his pretty lips. You think back to how they felt pressed against your own, fitting so perfectly. Okay, calm down. It’s just kissing. And today also a little more but you can do this, Y/N. It’s gonna be alright. No big deal.

Minho’s lips catch your own in a passionate kiss and you could swear this one is even better than the ones yesterday. If that’s even possible. Warmth spreads through your body, when he grabs your jaw and pulls you closer. He’s taking the full initiative this time and it makes you feel confident, comfortable, safe. When he pulls away from you for a second, it needs all the strength you’ve got to not slip out a desperate little noise. But Minho quickly continues, his hands now wandering down your sides, roaming over your curves and taking in every part of your body. He’s absolutely in love with the way you dress—the green dress really compliments you and in combination with the apple jewellery dangling from your ears you complete this look adorably. However, he’s a little scared to do some damage to the earrings which is why he tells you to maybe put them away and you follow suit.

Once you’ve done that, he gets closer again, placing a hasty kiss on the side of your mouth before the little patterns start blossoming on your jawline, your neck and wander down. But he holds himself back. You’ve agreed to do this step by step, slowly at your pace. His fingers travel south, passing your waist, your hips and your ass, until they slip under your dress. Minho keeps his eyes on yours at all times and when you whisper a small ‘yes, please’, he knows he’s doing everything correctly. He has to hold back a mischievous chuckle but you seem to be so deep in your thoughts that you wouldn’t notice anyway.

Your dress gets pushed a little upwards, revealing your tights to Minho. “Pull them off,” you let out, not quite getting where the sudden confidence is coming from. But Minho does as he’s told, taking off the fabric and revealing your underwear to him. You observe his tongue grazing over his lips, wetting them and for a second he imagines how it would be like to go down on you until he decides against it. Step by step, right? However, his hand is already back right between your legs that you obediently part for him. His fingertips are grazing over your soaked panties, forcing a whimper out of your mouth. You sound so adorable, it’s unbelievable.

“Can I take these off?” Minho asks, his gaze colliding with your own. You hastily nod, spreading your thighs even further. “Yes. Take them off.” Minho follows suit, sliding down the last remaining material that hides your pussy from the man hovering above you. Your cunt now exposed to him, you start getting a little shy, although you are completely forgetting that this is in fact Minho who is doing this with you. The guy in your friend group who you don’t get along with and suddenly he’s so gentle with you. But you’ve got no time to worry about any of this, when he says, “Y/N. It’s okay. It’s just me, yeah? You wanna keep going?”

How does he manage to make you feel like this? It should be illegal. Still, you nod and dare to part your legs a little further again. The view makes his mouth water but he holds back a little, only spreading your pussy lips apart with his fingers and finding exactly what he’s been looking for—you’re absolutely wet for him. He’s gonna lose his mind tonight, that one is for sure. “Show me what you like, Y/N,” he lets out, barely a whisper.

You’re unsure if he wants you to guide him or do it yourself but when you reach for his hand, he takes control instead and lets your own fingertips graze over your wetness. “Come on, touch yourself, princess.” You do as you’re told, heavy breaths escaping you and Minho, when you start pleasuring yourself. Two of your fingers find your clit, drawing circles around it while you keep your eyes fixated on his. You’re sure you’re gonna faint at any second, especially when he whispers again, “Yeah, just like that. You look adorable like this, you know that?”

For some reason, the fact that Minho is more experienced than you and the one who’s guiding you, just turns you on more—if that’s even possible at this point. You continue with your little movements, moans slipping out of you but it doesn’t feel good enough. Just like those times when you tried it on your own, home alone. It’s nice, for sure, but not nice enough. Your eyebrows are scrunched together, chest rising up from the fast breaths you let out and your heart racing at the speed of light. But no matter what you do—if you adjust the pace, change the movements a little or part your legs further—it’s just not enough. So, gathering up together all your confidence and ask Minho for help is inevitable at this point.

“Minho… please. I… I can’t…” you let out. By now, Minho is rock hard inside his pants, his poor cock being neglected in there but you don’t seem to noticed, way too focused on your own little issue. “You can’t what?” That stupid smirk on his face just arouses you more.

“Need your h-help,” you confess and all that menace does is chuckle. Rough kisses erupt on your neck, leading you on even more and it is so much fun to him, it’s unbelievable. “You need me, huh?” You can’t with him. Not in the state you are in right now, your legs spread and your fingers playing with yourself, entirely exposed to the man above you. “Stop teasing me.”

Minho scoffs, his lips getting close to your ear, “Says the tease herself, hm?” But then he lets go again, just to add, “Okay, darling. Lay on your back for me, yeah?”

You nod, following suit. Your entire body hits the sofa, the soft cushion shifting under your weight. Minho is hovering over you, his hand replacing your movements, now right at your wetness where you own had been just seconds prior. “Can I touch you?” It’s barely a whisper but you still tell him to keep going.

And it feels a thousand times better, as if you leveled up and are close to tasting heaven, when his fingers start grazing over your sensitive nub. He riles you up even more, before two of his digits come dangerously close to your soaking entrance. When Minho receives a little encouragement from you, he pushes one of them aside. You instantly start clenching around it but he takes his time to let you get used to the new feeling. His fingers are a lot bigger than your own, so one of them surely feels like two of yours. He’s stretching you out so nicely, always making sure to continue the sensual motions on your clit with his thumb. Minho is thrusting in and out of you until you’re ready to take another one of his fingers. A moan leaves your mouth, but you allow him to take the upper hand in this.

Minho is driving you closer to the edge without doing much, but the way he uses his fingers to pleasure you is beyond this world. This doesn’t even come remotely close to every time you’ve tried it yourself.

“Feels good, Min” you praise him, the name threatening to make him come untouched inside his pants. God. He’s never witnessed himself being so pathetic but he doesn’t mind at all if he thinks about it. Well, if he was able to think straight right now. It’s not easy to focus on anything else, if you are whimpering for him, while your liquids are coating his fingers and your walls are tightening around him.

“And you’re such a good girl, hm? Finally figured out how to turn you into a good girl for me, princess.”

Without a warning, you reach your high, when you clench around his digits and sparkles start blinding your vision. Utmost pleasure rushes through your veins, when your legs are shaking again like they did yesterday and the sensation takes over you. Your soul leaves your body for a second that you are sure of, but Minho keeps guiding you through your high, praising you some more, before his pace drops. When you’re breathing normally again, he pulls his fingers out of you again. You watch him guide them to his mouth before they slip inside and he licks them clean. An almost animalistic sound leaves him and you gulp, not yet realising what kind of mess you’ve entered here.

How is one supposed to go on with their life normally when Lee Minho just gave them the best orgasm of their life only with his fingers?

You’re somewhat back to reality half an hour later. Minho has made some food for the both of you, once again playing all gentleman and swiping your feet off the ground with his cooking skills. Okay, it’s enough. Calm down, Y/N. It’s just food. But also a good way to conquer your heart–

“Would you like some more?” he asks, ripping you out of the spiral of thoughts that’s running through your brain. You shake your head no but give him a smile that is rather just the motion of your lips pressing against each other. Minho gets up then and carries away the dishes, telling you to sit down again when you offer any help. Why is he like this? So… kind? You’re seriously getting second guesses if this was such a good idea. The dynamic has grown weird to say the least. But then again, today has also shown that you can in fact feel comfortable and safe around him, despite the two of you not being that close. At least up until now. Sometimes you wished you could worry less but that’s how life is. Unfortunately.

“Thank you for today, Minho,” you decide to say then, a little nervous and still so very much confused about all this. Maybe you should just get some sleep and think about it tomorrow when you have a much clearer mind again. Hopefully.

“Oh, don’t forget your earrings,” Minho lets out, reaching for the jewellery that he had placed on the couch table earlier in order to not accidentally damage them or anything. Your fingertips graze over his, when he hands you the two green apples but you ignore the rushing sensation sprinting straight through your chest. When you are about to put them back in, he suddenly decides to help you, turning this whole situation even more domestic than it should be. But you let him. Half a minute later, he helps you back into your coat and reaches for his own jacket.

“Are you going outside, too?”

He nods, “Yeah, I’ll bring you home. It’s already dark outside.” Oh. You seriously haven’t expected this. But you are smart enough to not argue with Minho and despite that, you are also very much a woman and walking home alone at such a late hour isn’t the smartest idea in order to feel safe. And Minho grants you exactly this—safety. As ridiculous as it sounds. He puts on his shoes and you do the same, before you throw your bag over your shoulder.

All of a sudden, there’s a knock on his front door. From the other side, the hallway. Minho’s eyes are widening and he places his index finger on his lips, telling you to keep quiet. He carefully opens the door and you hide behind it. Why on earth does his apartment not have a spy hole? He doesn’t let the person in but judging by the shrill and annoying voice you can clearly tell who is visiting Minho tonight.

“Jisung, why are you here?”

Oh, fuck no. Under no circumstances your friend can find out that you are at his best friend’s—aka your enemy’s—apartment. How would you even explain this situation to him? Oh, Ji, by the way, we haven’t told you but I’ve been meeting Minho these past couple of days because he is teaching me how to make a man come so I can satisfy Hyunjin better once he’s back. Yes, I know you found this idea about asking someone to tutor me hilarious, funny that I’m actually doing it, right? Yeah. Sounds ridiculous just like this whole situation.

“Bro, that’s not how you greet your best friend when he’s here for you with beer and takeaway,” the younger one says and without being able to see Minho right now you know that he’s once again rolling his eyes. You can also hear him scoff which adds to it.

“What did you do?”

Of course Minho immediately suspects that his best friend must have gotten in trouble and you wouldn’t be surprised either if you are honest. “What do you mean? Why do you instantly think that I—alright, okay. I need to crash on your couch. There was a leaking pipe in my student dorm and they are currently taking care of it. Like an emergency. But I brought drinks and snacks as well as my Mario Kart game that you always love to play,” Jisung rambles.

“Fine,” Minho says. He obviously can’t decline his best friend entrance, especially if said best friend is in need and doesn’t have a place to sleep tonight. “Uhm, just a second.”

“Are you hiding something, bro? Or someone? Are you back together with Areum—please don’t say yes especially not if we both know that you are actually–“

“Will you just cut it? If you wanna know—you kinda… uhm, interrupted me in the middle of something and I have to clean some stuff, you know,” Minho explains. Well, a good half-lie. He makes it sound as if he was jerking off, which he technically was but how he’s wording it Jisung believes that Minho spent some good time on his own. A great idea to hide the evidence—you.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, no issue for me. But I know you are always weird and secretive about this. You know what? I’ll hand you these,” Jisung offers, giving Minho the drinks and food he brought with him, “I’m gonna head downstairs again and buy some other snacks and a pack of cigarettes.”

“No smoking inside. You’ll have to use my balcony,” he reminds his best friend. “Of course, boss. No worries about that. I’ll be right back.”

A second later, Jisung runs down the stairs again and Minho closes the front door. “That was risky,” he lets out and a breath he’s been holding escapes out of his mouth with it. “I’m so sorry about this, about him.”

It's not like it’s Minho’s fault. Maybe it was a little careless to believe that Jisung wouldn’t just appear here. After all, he often spontaneously knocks on your apartment’s door too. “It’s alright. I’ll see you tomorrow on campus?” you ask and Minho nods. “Sure. Good night, Y/N.”

[ Minho ]: Please text me when you’re home so I know that you’re safe.

The message pops up on your phone when you’re on the subway. You are glad that there’s a group of women on your train with you, making you feel a little safer. Sure, not as safe as Minho could but still. You still can’t believe what happened and thinking back to the scene on his couch makes you giggle like a teenage girl, someone could almost think you’ve got a crush on him or something. Which you obviously don’t. Minho is still Minho and you are still you. Besides that, there are only four days left until Hyunjin is back and he will hopefully ask you out.

A few minutes later, the public transport reaches your station and you get out. When you reach your apartment building, you run up the stairs, ready to get home and take off your makeup and change into comfort clothes. You type in the code for your front door and it opens, before you enter your flat. You call out Felix since you hear some of his giggles echoing from the living room. It sounds as if he’s talking to someone. Strange. He didn’t announce any company tonight but maybe a friend is visiting. You take off your shoes and jacket, get into your slippers and walk toward the source of the noise. Just when you are about to enter the room, Felix stands up and runs to you in order to hug you.

“Y/N, you’re back! Guess who’s here and came back early from Paris?”

Oh, wow. This can’t be. You take a few steps forward and a tall certain someone reveals himself. You let out a chuckle, not quite grasping that Hyunjin is actually here, before he pulls you into a long and tight hug, too. “I missed you, angel.” God, that name. He’s called you by that name a couple of times but tonight it sounds extraordinarily pretty spilling from his beautiful lips. “I missed you too, Jinnie.” It almost looks as if there are tears in his eyes but he’s probably just happy and released to be back in his hometown. He’s been far away for far too long after all.

“How’ve you been? You’ve got some studying done?” Right. That’s what you told Felix what you’d be doing tonight. You gulp, feeling a bit bad for lying to both your best friend and Hyunjin. “Y-Yeah. Quite boring but you know how it is. I’m so glad you’re back, though!” You notice Felix walking away, disappearing somewhere in the kitchen to give his two best friends some space.

“Y/N, listen. I’ve meant it by the way. My text and all. Once you’re ready and have time I’d love to take you out on a date,” he tells you, confirming that he actually might be serious this time. A bright smile is shining all over your face, when you excitedly nod. “Yes, of course.”

Hyunjin explains then that he wanted to surprise you and this is why he showed up at your apartment but only Felix was here. He’s still got all of his luggage with him and since you already seem to be tired and have classes in the morning, your roommate offers to drive Hyunjin to his old apartment. You tell them good night, pulling your crush into another hug and he places a soft kiss on your cheek. You’re gonna turn into a puddle anytime soon. Watching them leave the house, you head toward the bathroom and get ready for bed, before you fall down on the mattress and doze off into sleep within minutes.

And of course with only Hyunjin on your mind, totally forgetting that you were supposed to text Minho that you made it back home safely…

#z recs #lee know fics

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

Text

ach my heart. my poor fragile heart

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

#z recs #lee know fics

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

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eeeeeeeee i’m such a sucker for fake dating i’m so excited for this series !!!!

THE EXPERIENCE PROJECT | EP. 1 — BE MY FIRST

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

“One last rule. No falling in love,” you say.

He scoffs. “As if I’d ever fall in love with you.” You know that Minho doesn’t really like you but there’s no need to word it like this. Especially, when it’s all a lie and you just don’t know it yet.

[ warning ]: explicit sexual scene [ softdom minho, corruption kink, dry humping, minho calls reader ‘princess’ and ‘good girl’ ]

[ words ]: 6.5K

[ note ]: here is the first chapter! I am so nervous omggg I dearly hope you will like it. If you enjoyed this very first chapter I’d appreciate it a lot if you shared your thoughts with me by commenting, reblogging or sending an ask. 🌸

“Y/N? I asked if you are with us.”

Your gaze shoots up to your freckled friend. His big eyes look at you, desperately awaiting an answer. It seems as if you zoned out yet again which isn’t that surprising considering what is shining bright on your phone screen at the moment. How are you supposed to focus on the conversation happening in front of you when your crush texted you?

“Sorry, what?”

He sighs and Jisung next to him lets out a warmhearted chuckle. Once again your head is anywhere except for a part of the current topic. It’s been like this for some time. But staring at the notification on your phone a second time lets you dive deep into the mess you call your heart. He texted you. Not the group chat. Neither Felix nor Jisung—at least not that you know of. He decided to message you first. This has to mean something, right? You still haven’t opened said chat, way too much hyperventilating inside to even unlock your device right now.

“God, Y/N, what is going on with you today?” Jisung asks with a scoff, taking a glimpse at your phone but he can’t see the notification from this angle. Luckily. You have no idea how your two friends would react. You know for a fact that Jisung isn’t quite the biggest fan of the man who just reached out to you right now—a feud that has been going on way before you fell in love with him. Sometimes you think it’s a little childish how they act around one another but then you realise that Minho—the fifth in your group—and you are no different. Fortunately the oldest isn’t here right now, this would just make the whole situation even more embarrassing.

“You’re gonna laugh at me.”

Should you tell them? They will find out sooner or later anyway. Perhaps, Felix could at least give you some advice—what to reply, how to approach this situation in general—if just Jisung wasn’t here, ready to give his two cents to any discussion he isn’t even a part of. Felix tilts his head a little, before his hand reaches out for you. Palm laying flat against your shoulder, his thumb starts caressing you, while your friend gives you a reassuring smile. It helps you calm down a little.

“There is nothing that you should be embarrassed about. We have Jisung here, I bet he can tell you at least three things he’s done that are more embarrassing,” he says with a grin. And earns a nudge in his side from your other friend.

“So, you’re not gonna laugh at me?” you want to make sure just another time. They both shake their heads in unison, as Felix keeps grazing over your shoulder with his hand, squeezing your arm a little.

“He… he texted me,” you confess. The reactions from your friends couldn’t be any different—whereas Felix is carrying the brightest smile on his face, Jisung has one eyebrow raised, emphasizing how suspicious he feels about anything your crush does. After all, he was the one who helped you most through your heartbreak half a year ago, when said guy decided to confess his feelings to you just one day before leaving the country to go on an exchange year in France.

“What did he say?” Felix asks. Of course, your friends instantly know who you are talking about. After all, topics surrounding your crush haven’t left your lips even six months after he left. And now he is back. You still can’t believe it although you know he was gonna be here again soon. Maybe, subconsciously, you were just praying for more time to figure out how to act around him.

“Here… this is his message,” you say, giving your friends your phone. They grab it and you instantly turn away. Felix’s eyes widen and those of Jisung start rolling, meeting his brain. When you reach for your device again, you read the message for the first time.

[ Hyunjin ]: Hey, Y/N. I will land in Seoul next Friday. I’d love to go to a café with you once I am back. Tell me if you are free. I have missed you a lot. ❤️

He asked for you. Specifically. From what you can tell he hasn’t texted your other friends yet. No message to Felix, Jisung and—well, sure, you don’t know if Hyunjin has reached out to Minho which would be possible, considering how close these two are but you want to believe you are something special to the man you have been crushing on for years. It’s picture perfect, straight out of a cheesy romance movie. The two of you met during your first semester of college three years ago, quickly becoming part of the same friend group. He’s—besides Felix—the person you are closest with which allows you to have a stable base for whatever is to follow.

But then he moved away twelve hours after confessing to you. Timing much, right?

“Oh no, don’t go down that road again, Y/N,” Jisung immediately says, his eyebrows scrunched, the palms of his hands glued together as if he is pleading for you to follow his advice.

“You’re still a Hyunjin hater?” Jisung hastily nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest now. You weren’t aware that this would affect him so much. “Yes, who the hell confesses their undying love to their close friend just the day right before they go on a flight to Paris for an exchange semester? Ah right, Hwang Hyunjin!”

“It was not as dramatic as you make it seem,” you scoff, shaking your head and rolling your eyes in annoyance although you know that Jisung might just be describing reality.

“It in fact was. I had to bring so many buckets of ice cream to your dorm that the cashier asked me if I resell them, am involved in dropshipping or use them for money laundering—however that works together,” your friend is basically yelling at this point, almost hyperventilating about how you could say such things. He can’t believe all this talking half a year ago was for nothing if you take Hyunjin back at the first chance given. You pushed those memories aside. But the scenes become crystal clear again—how Jisung visited your apartment, trying out flavour after flavour of every ice cream. At the end of those two weeks of full heartbreak you thought you were gonna become lactose intolerant.

“Yes. But he is here now, you know? We don’t have that distance anymore and I am ready for… whatever the future holds,” you admit with a small smile that feels almost forced. This is what you have wanted for years. You have wanted to be the girl on Hyunjin’s side since you met him. Why give up now when you can basically taste what you’ve been hoping for?

The door to the apartment you share with Felix swings open, revealing a certain someone who owns the only spare key. You’ve always wanted Jisung to be the owner of that precious object but your roommate soon convinced you that this probably wouldn’t be the smartest idea. So, you decided—against your preference—to hand it to Minho instead. He is now standing inside the living room, after taking off his shoes and storing away his jacket. Two paper bags in his hands, he approaches the group and plops down on the empty space on the big couch.

“Sorry, I’m late. Dance practice was extraordinarily annoying today,” Minho greets you while opening the stuff he brought, revealing takeout inside of it. This guy seriously believes he can apologise for anything with food. It doesn’t help that he either manages to cook five-star worthy meals or buys meals from your favourite restaurants just like he’s done this time.

“Nooo, Min, what happened?” Jisung’s attention is immediately turned to the oldest member of the friend group—and partly to the hamburgers and chilli cheese fries in front of him. Felix gets up for a second, grabbing four glasses and one big bottle of coke.

Your gaze switches towards the newest member of tonight’s ensemble.

Lee Minho.

A walking mystery and the one person of your close circle that you have never really gotten along with. You’re just too different. Almost as if you are caught in some romance book, your trope could be described as sunshine and grumpy asshole. He makes fun of you on a daily basis whenever you share something you are excited about.

“Where were we with the Hyunjin issue?”

Jisung manages to drag you back to the present conversation. You try to blame your lack of attention on the immaculate food but this just brings you back to the actual problem—Minho. The way he is staring at you right now, a smirk decorating his beautiful face, makes you turn absolutely furious, on the verge of exploding when your emotions bubble up from your stomach to your head.

“Hyunjin issue?” Minho teases. You can see him click his tongue, as he reaches for more fries.

“Yeah he texted her and asked to go on a date and–“

“Will you cut it, Ji?” you tell him, nudging him into the side. You’d only have half as many problems if Jisung’s brain to mouth filter would for once properly work. Since you are too busy scolding your bratty friend, you don’t notice Minho’s reaction. The smirk is long gone, his expression turned into something that’s painted by annoyance and… jealousy. But you don’t see it. Luckily, for him.

“Don’t listen to him. Have you already replied to him?” Felix asks now, bringing your focus back to what actually counts. Right. Hwang Hyunjin. And the fact that he wants to continue your relationship where it left off. Whatever that means. You’ve never been a couple, that is for sure. Although you were so close if he didn’t decide to go to Paris for six months. You’ve never been one to stand between him and his dreams but you wished he decided to wait a little longer with his confession so the past half a year wouldn’t have been this heart wrenching. You shake your head no, desperately trying to avoid your best friend’s eyes.

“Do you not want to go on a date with him? Isn’t this what you have been waiting for for half a year now?” your roommate asks further and you can’t understand why he just doesn’t stop. Sure, Felix always wants to help you but sometimes he’s almost as bad at reading the room as Jisung is. They both know that Minho will use any small detail he gets about your private life to make fun of you at the first chance given.

“Y-Yeah, it is… it’s just—ugh, forget it,” you interrupt yourself. There is a very specific reason why you are a bit hesitant regarding the whole Hyunjin situation. But it’s something you definitely can’t confess right now. Not here. Not in front of your enemy. It sounds so dramatic but you definitely wouldn’t consider Minho your friend either. You’re just too different.

“What’s the issue then, Y/N? Why are you having second guesses?”

“Because Hyunjin is a piece of–“

“Cut it out now, will you?” Felix hisses at Jisung. Your roommate looks at you with a silent expression that tells you this is a safe space despite Minho being here. Sometimes your best friend and you communicate on a level like this, it’s truly amazing. So, should you just tell them? It’s not a secret anyway. Minho can’t use anything against you that everybody knows already.

“I’m… inexperienced,” you mumble so quietly that none of them have caught whatever you said. But then again on a second thought, you feel comfortable enough to share your secrets with Felix and even Jisung—as long as he promises to not tease you—but Minho? You’re not entirely sure about that yet.

“Y/N, were you yourself even able to understand what you said? We couldn’t hear you,” Jisung says.

You roll your eyes. It’s gonna be okay, you know that. They won’t judge you for anything. After all, you’ve never thought badly of them because of any story about their love lives they shared. Except for Minho because he never shares anything when it comes to this topic. You know that he just left a long term relationship some weeks ago but that’s all. He had rarely ever shared any details about his now ex girlfriend.

The rambling thoughts keep sprinting through your head as if they are trying to win some marathon. You’ve got this. It’s okay. No one is gonna judge you, right?

“I’m… I’m inexperienced, okay?”

A huge weight drops off your shoulders once the words leave your mouth and fill the room. Immediately, your friend’s faces soften—emphasis on friends since Minho’s expression stays as neutral as ever—which helps you calm down a little.

“In dating? Most of us are, I blame this on our generation who can’t get into serious relationships anymore. If I hear the word situationship another time I’m gonna lose my mind,” Felix complains. Your best friend has had a crush on his gym coach for some time now but he is way too shy to ask Changbin out. So, you’re not surprised your roommate relates to your problems.

But that’s not even the main point here. Sure, you’re all somewhat messed up when it comes to commitment issues but if it was only about dating you wouldn’t make such a scene right now. It’s more than that. What terrifies you most is the fact that you’ve never gotten beyond kissing with anyone. It always feels as if everyone your age has made their fair share of sexual experiences and you are still at the same level you have been for years. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin when you’re already in your early twenties but the insecurities have been eating you alive, making you compare yourself with everyone else.

Especially Hyunjin. What if you’re not… good enough for him? Yes, rationally speaking you know that’s bullshit because, one, your crush isn’t like that and, second, you wouldn’t date someone who doesn’t respect you. However, sometimes you can’t quite control those stupid thoughts and emotions inside of you.

“It’s not just… dating and serious stuff, you know. Also… regarding… you know what.”

Minho scoffs and rolls his eyes, “God, Y/N, you can’t even say the word sex. But what do we expect from a virgin?”

Okay. You take that back. Maybe you shouldn’t have opened up this topic while he is here.

“Minho, shut up. Just because she isn’t comfortable openly talking about such an intimate topic doesn’t automatically mean that she’s a virgin. Right, Y/N?” Fortunately, you can always count of Felix to defend you when others talk shit about you. Unfortunately, this time said shit also equals the truth. “Right?”

And your lack of response tells enough for the three men to grasp why you are so insecure about this all.

“Oh, you… you actually are a virgin,” Felix mutters. You let out a huff, before you take another sip from your drink. “Yes, okay? I am a virgin. I’ve never gotten beyond kissing someone.”

“Hyunjin?” your roommate adds further.

“Y-Yeah. He was my first kiss during some truth or dare game during our first semester. The night before he left he kissed me again,” you explain. Thinking back at how nice his plump lips felt pressed against your own makes your knees give out and you are glad that you’re already seated.

“But, why?” Jisung earns another nudge to his side from Felix. “Ouch, Lix, calm down.” He brings his gaze back to you. “I was just wondering because I didn’t expect it. Is there a reason if it’s okay I’m asking?”

The fact that Jisung is actually considerate this time gives you a bit of comfort. “I was waiting for the right person… but I realised that I don’t want this anymore. This is what past-Y/N was hoping for.”

“That person being Hyunjin?” Felix asks, already knowing the answer. When you nod, he realises his assumptions are right. “But that’s romantic. This way you can experience all those first times together.”

“I don’t wanna break those pink glasses you are wearing but Hyunjin is basically the opposite of Y/N when it comes to this,” Minho explains.

“How do you know?”

“Dance practise.”

Your stomach does a turn. You’ve already known this, rumours exist for a reason. But hearing it from Minho—and him actually sounding honest—gives you the confirmation you weren’t hoping for.

“So, yeah, that’s the issue,” you continue or rather sum things up.

“Why is that an issue?” your roommate looks at you confused.

“I… I don’t wanna date him or whatever with zero experience. I’m gonna make a fool out of myself,” you confess.

“So, what? You’re gonna attend a course?” Jisung jokingly asks.

“No… well… I had an idea for some time, in case the situation of Hyunjin asking me out or whatever occurs, but I am now realising how dumb it is.”

“There is nothing dumb about any of your ideas. We have Jisung here, I bet he can tell you at least three ideas he’s had that are dumber,” Felix grins again, copying his words from earlier but Jisung doesn’t react anymore.

“It’s seriously stupid. I was considering asking someone to… practise with me. You know, h-how dating works and… other stuff.”

Jisung’s mouth falls agape, “Look at you. I love the idea!”

“Of course you would love such a stupid idea,” Felix mumbles. “Y/N, who would that even be?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, it’s a dumb idea,” you repeat. Your best friend scoots a little closer to you, pulling you into a lazy half-hug. “You know that you don’t have to have any experience to date Hyunjin, right? He will understand…”

“That’s… that’s not the only issue,” you say with a cough. Right. Because there is something else that has been harassing your mind or rather your… body.

“What else is it?”

Heat rushes to your face. You can’t speak this out loud. This goes beyond the scope of every secret you have shared tonight.

“I’ll be right back,” Minho says, getting up and walking towards the bathroom. You wonder if he has done it on purpose to give you some space and allow you to talk freely with your friends. He seems to have some manners after all.

“So, Y/N?” Felix asks again and you know it’s inevitable at this point. You take another deep breath before you start, “I… I feel like I’m missing out. I am just curious, you know?”

Jisung smiles, “So in other words, you are horny?”

“If you wanna call it that,” you mumble.

“You know, I can always help you with that issue,” Jisung adds and a wink follows. You’ve thought about it too, you can’t deny that part. After all, your friend basically has the words ‘down to fuck’ written on his face, caught in the same dilemma as you. However, you can’t view him sexually—to you, he’s one of your closest friends that manages to make you laugh no matter how serious a situation is. And another issue—as far as you know, he would make a better student than tutor in this.

“Ji, be honest, are you that much more experienced than me?”

He chuckles, “Alright, you’ve got me there.” He doesn’t deny it. Why would he? Besides that, it’s an open secret that he’s got a crush on a girl that he’s been talking to online for some time. They haven’t met each other but their shared interests in video games probably made them fall for one another and you won’t destroy that.

You are ashamed to admit it but for half a second the thought of asking Minho crossed your mind. Yes, disgusting. Well, not in a way that he’s unattractive. Unfortunately, your enemy is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen—after all, you have eyes—but the way he keeps teasing you kind of destroys it. So, this situation seems to stay hopeless.

“No offence. It was a stupid idea to begin with,” you say, when reality finally hits you.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. Hyunjin and you will take your time, everything at the pace you prefer and it’s gonna be amazing anyway,” Felix reassures you, right before the bathroom door swings open and Minho comes back.

Your blanket comforts you when you go to bed a few hours later. Rapid poundings of your heart are still echoing in your chest but you have learnt best to ignore it. Sometimes you hate to be like this—over emotional, overreacting, overthinking—when you’d actually rather be over all this. However, then again you have waited for this exact situation for six months now ever since Hyunjin left for Paris after he told you he’s thought about the two of you being more than just friends.

It’s gonna be okay, you try to remind yourself. This time things will work out for you two. He’s gonna take you on a date, first to a café and the second one hopefully ice skating—something you’ve always wanted to do with him. One day, you will introduce him as your boyfriend to your family—they only know him as your friend so far—and he will join you on a camping trip, one of your favourite traditions.

But until then—you are still thinking about the issue that you have created inside your head all by yourself. Fuck this. Deep down you know you don’t feel pressured, Hyunjin is the most understanding person out there, otherwise you wouldn’t have such strong romantic feelings for him. But then again—if someone was gonna offer you any help you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

You truly believe some spiritual awakening hits you then, when your phone receives a notification.

[ Minho ]: I didn’t wanna spy on you but I was barely outside the room when you said it.

Suddenly, your heart quickens its pace, threatening to burst out of your chest. You already have a bad feeling in your stomach, suspecting Minho to know more about your little issue than you thought.

[ You ]: said what?

The three little dots appear, before you get another message and your breath gets stuck in your throat.

[ Minho ]: that you need to get laid ;)

The audacity this man has is insane. He can’t be for real. And you seriously can’t understand why his words create a funny feeling that shoots right down to your crotch. Get it together, Y/N.

[ You ]: if you are just here to make fun of me leave me the fuck alone

Oh, if you could just see his face right now. This is way too entertaining for a Sunday night like this one.

[ Minho ]: Easy, Y/N. I am actually here to make an offer.

No. No. He can’t be serious. This is a dream, isn’t it?

[ You ]: what do you mean?

You pretend to not know what he’s hinting at but when he texts again, your suspicions turn out to be the truth.

[ Minho ]: You want experience, right? In the romantic dating life but also want to feel good and learn how to make Hyunjin feel good, don’t you?

[ You ]: minho where is this leading to…

Time suddenly stands still when you are (im)patiently waiting for his next reply.

[ Minho ]: Let’s turn this into a little study project. I will be your tutor, if you wanna call it that. We will go on dates and I’ll help you with your other issue too ;)

Fuck. You suddenly feel dizzy and all warm, a sensation spreading right between your thighs which makes you feel even more pathetic. If you think about it, the idea sounds great. Since Minho and you can’t really stand each other, keeping everything physical without developing any feelings or further drama seems easy.

But what if he’s just joking? What if Minho is just proposing that to make fun of you? Better safe than sorry is what you think, so you pretend to not be absolutely down to have his hands all over your body.

[ You ]: i’m not sure

[ Minho ]: That’s okay. It’s really just an offer and you don’t have to say yes to it. But if you do please know you won’t regret this, princess.

Oh, God. This gets more exciting with each new message he sends.

[ You ]: i will think about it

Deep down you’ve already made a decision and when you open your period tracker on your phone, you blame it on the time of the month and your ovaries. But you actually know that there’s more to it. It’s nothing new that you’ve thought about Minho in a light like this. However, romantically speaking you only have eyes for Hyunjin. If you agree to this it will be for scientific purposes only.

One last time, your phone receives a message.

[ Minho ]: Sweet dreams, Y/N 🖤

Of course, Mr Grumpy sends a black heart.

[ You ]: goodnight minho

Dressed in a white summer dress with a lemon pattern stitched onto the fabric, you make your way to Minho’s apartment the next evening. Since he lives alone, you agreed to meet at his place. Yes. You also agreed to his little offer, as it seems. You’ve thought about it for a solid five minutes but realised that nothing really speaks against it.

After ringing the doorbell, you are let inside, taking off your shoes at the entrance while Minho helps you out of your light jacket—playing all gentleman.

“I made food,” he announces as if you two are a couple. Minho guides you to the kitchen inside his studio apartment. The scents lingering in the air make it into your nostrils, your stomach close to letting out a growling sound. “You… you made food?”

“Why are you asking me this as if you suspect me to poison you?”

Well, you wouldn't be surprised. The amount of kindness—if you can call it that—which Minho has brought to you in the last twenty four hours is more than he’s ever granted you in all three years you’ve known each other combined. He places some of the food— fresh pasta—on two plates and tells you to take a seat at his dining table. You do so and once the meal is served, the both of you start eating.

“N-No, I just didn’t expect it. Why would you make food for me? This is so kind, though,” you thank him, absolutely blown away by the great taste of such a simple dish.

“First of all, I was hungry, too, so I didn’t just make it for you.” Minho places a few more noodles on his plate. “Second of all, don’t praise me for not making you starve while you’re at my place.”

The conversation dies down there because deep inside you know he is right. Still, it’s nice that he took the time to make food for you. This is definitely one of the easiest way to win your heart–

Wait, what?

You push those thoughts aside, focusing on the present situation and soon you finish your meal. You want to compliment Minho for his cooking skills but his ego is already on a way too high level so you are not risking anything. When you offer to clean up, Minho tells you to sit down on his sofa instead while he needs only a couple of minutes to take care of the mess.

“So, about the deal, Y/N,” he starts, plopping down next to you. There’s a lot of space between you which makes it hilarious thinking about the fact that Minho suggested that he would help you with your little inexperience and dating issues.

“Right… your offer.”

You still can’t believe it. If you’re honest you are waiting for him to show you wherever he’s hidden his camera before he shouts ‘it’s just a prank’ and starts laughing about you. But this scene that’s been playing inside your head never turns into reality. For a fact, Minho seems quite serious. “What do you have in mind?”

He wasn’t joking. You’re not questioning it for now although your brain already starts rambling about why he would even do that. But you can use this to your advantage. Only a week left until Hyunjin will be here and perhaps go on a date with you just like it sounded when your longtime crush texted you. “Maybe you could show me some… tricks and stuff,” you say.

Minho scoffs. He takes a sip from his water and rolls his eyes, “Tricks? Do I look like a magician to you?” You hold back a laugh. This was actually funny. Unfortunately. But faster than you’re able to reply, Minho continues, “Listen, what I thought is—how about we take this step by step and this way you’ll become a little more confident for dating Hyunjin.”

If you wanna do this the right way without much drama—which is inevitable with Minho and you—there needs to be somet time of strategy. A plan. Rules, if you will.

“We should make a contract,” you blurt out. He looks at you a little dumbfounded, desperately trying to hold back a laugh. You’re so adorable, it’s almost annoying. Why on earth did Minho’s heart decide to fall for you out of all people? It’s not just that you clearly don’t like him back, no, you are in love with one of his closest friends.

“A contract?”

You giggle awkwardly, tilting your head. Scratching the top of your head, your lower lip gets caught between your teeth. That’s how people do it in all those romance books and movies that feature the infamous fake dating and enemies to lovers tropes too, right? You then realise that these stories are always bound to end in breaking said contracts but you once again ignore those thoughts that are popping up in your head. “Yes. Just so that we know we are always on the same page and no boundaries are getting crossed,” you explain, trying to drag yourself out of the mess you’ve just created.

“Fine. What rules do you want?”

Oh. Okay. So, he is actually up to it. Great. You get up and reach inside your backpack, grabbing your iPad. Minho looks at you confused but doesn’t question it. You join him on the sofa again, open your favourite app for taking notes and start scribbling down.

‘THE EXPERIENCE PROJECT. A CONTRACT BETWEEN MINHO AND Y/N.’

“The experience project?”

“Too weird? You were the one who called himself a tutor,” you add, now wondering if he just said that as a joke. You should stop taking whatever people tell you literally.

“It’s fine. Whatever you want, princess,” Minho says with a wink. You gulp, focusing back on the screen in front of you.

“Rule number one—we’re gonna do this at my pace,” you say.

His eyes are widening, “Yes, obviously. That’s what I implied with step by step. Whenever you wanna slow down or even end this deal, you can just tell me, okay?” Minho feels a little sick in his stomach that you even have to emphasise that. This isn’t even up for debate.

You nod, “Alright. Second rule—we will not tell anyone about it. Neither Jisung nor Felix.”

“And obviously not Hyunjin,” he adds. His jaw clenches but you don’t notice.

“Yes, obviously. Also, let’s agree that you are only going to be… intimate with me.” You cringe at your own words. “Let’s make this experience project exclusive… monogamous.” Why are you even suggesting that?

He scoffs—once again—his arms now crossed in front of his chest and you wonder what Minho looks like without a shirt on.

Wait, what?

“You’re telling me I can’t meet and fuck others during our agreement?”

“Y-Yeah… What about—STDs and all?”

“I’ve never had sex without a condom,” he states.

“Oh, alright. Well, do whatever you want,” you backpedal.

“I sure will, princess.”

A confusing sensation spreads through your stomach. On one hand, you’re getting a little jealous although you know you’re not in a position to feel this way. But on top of that, the stupid little name he uses for you makes you feel a bit dizzy although it shouldn’t.

Oh, Y/N. You’re in for a ride. Literally.

“Fourth rule,” Minho starts, “once Hyunjin and you start getting closer physically, this contract ends.”

Fair point. Everything else would be cheating.

“One last rule. No falling in love,” you say.

He scoffs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. As if I’d ever fall in love with you.” Ouch. You know that Minho doesn’t really like you but there’s no need to word it like this. Especially, when it’s all a lie and you just don’t know it yet.

“Alright. That’s it then. I need you to sign this.” You give Minho your iPad and despite him rolling his eyes like he always does he writes down his autograph at the end of the contract. When he hands you the device back, you add your own and take a last look at the digital paper.

“So… Can we start today?” After all, Hyunjin will be here in a week and start dating you. There’s no time to lose. At least that’s what you blame your excitement on and not the fact that talking and thinking about all this with Minho made you a bit… thrilled. God, the way he sits there looking over at you—manspreading and a smirk on his face—shouldn’t get you on this level of aroused but here you are.

“You’ve kissed someone before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah… Like I said, with Hyunjin,” you admit.

Minho’s mimic shifts but you can’t quite tell what this means. “Hmm, okay. Shall we just start with this, too?”

“It feels so staged,” you say, an awkward chuckle spilling from your mouth.

“Isn’t this exactly what it is, Y/N? Staged?”

“Yes… But what about the surprises, the tension, the–“

Suddenly you’re pressed against the back of the couch and Minho’s lips are just an inch away from yours.

Wait, what?

“If you wanna keep going, make the first move, Y/N.”

And that’s exactly what you do. It feels as if the world stops when your lips crash into his. They feel so soft against your own, your brain shutting off because of his gentle touch. This is amazing. Unlike anything else. Not that you have a lot of experience—otherwise, you wouldn’t be here right now, would you? You feel embarrassed about the fact that you have to hold back a small whimper, when Minhos hand finds your jaw, as he pulls you closer and takes the lead. His tongue grazes over your mouth, asking for entrance. You allow him to slip it inside, now entangled with your own. This is fine. You’re fine. Absolutely fine. If you ignore the fact that you’re feeling dizzy and absolutely caught in trance. God. This makes disliking Minho a lot harder, actually.

Suddenly, he pulls away from you. He earns a small whine that you were pathetically trying to muffle but failed.

“You wanna sit on my lap?”

Your heart stops. But you nod. This is for science, right? He said it himself, he’s tutoring you. Minho doesn’t need to know that these little kisses are already enough to drive you crazy.

“Words, Y/N,” he adds. “Whenever we do something that’s new for you, I want you to consent with words very clearly, yeah?”

You’ve never sat on someone else’s lap before so this is in fact new for you. You wonder if Minho can tell, if the fact that you are so invested in a little bit of making out shows how truly inexperienced you are. But you try to focus on something else again. Right. The man in front of you. Your enemy. Minho. Who asked you to sit on his lap.

“Okay… I want that,” you reassure him.

“Good girl.”

You’re sure you’re about to faint but Minho grabs you by the waist—which doesn’t make this any easier—and hovers you on top of him. Now straddling his muscular thighs—not the first time you’re noticing them—he attaches his lips to yours once more. You continue where you left off and this time you’re the one whose tongue is fighting for dominance. His palms are still glued to your hips, adjusting your position.

And then he starts helping you find a rhythm. You haven’t fully realised but you are moving, no, grinding over one of his upper legs. And the friction it causes, when your crotch rubs over his thigh, makes you forget about all your surroundings. You’re breathing heavily, almost panting, by now, while Minho helps you find a good pace. Your panties are sticking to your pussy, more arousal dripping into the fabric with each move you make. At this point, you are afraid you might leave a wet patch on his pants but you don’t know yet that he has a thing for that. Well, Minho finds anything absolutely breathtaking and arousing that you do.

The sensation that’s created by your bodies moving against one another starts spreading through your system, taking you to another level. “Yeah, princess. Just like that. Keep riding me.” You do in fact feel like a princess. That’s how he makes you feel. A princess sitting on her throne—Minho’s lap. “Hm, you like that, yeah? Feels good?”

All you’re able to let out is a shameless moan, when the build up inside your lower stomach rises, a knot tightening and threatening to snap. Minho feels you getting closer, he can tell by the face you make, by the way your movements become sloppy.

“Come for me. I’ve got you.”

That’s all you need to hear to follow suit. You obey his words, your pussy walls clenching around nothing, as your legs start shaking. Minho guides you through your climax, whispering reassuring words and praises in your ear, calling you ‘his good girl’. You’ve never expected him to be so soft in a situation like this. If you’re honest, you’ve thought Minho would be more of the degrading type. He definitely has a darker side too, but of course with the agreement the two of you have, he obviously decided to be gentle with you first. He needs you to trust him completely, if you want to keep doing this.

When you come down from your high, it hits you then. You can’t believe you just came all over Minho’s thigh. Well, with your clothes on. Which makes this somehow even filthier. You've never reached your orgasm this extraordinarily fast. This was insane. In the best way possible.

When you fully open your eyes again, they meet Minho’s gaze and you notice that mischievous smile on his face again. The way he looks at you, lets your heart skip a beat. Butterflies start roaming around in your stomach, as your breath gets stuck in your throat. If things between the two of you keep going like this, it will be hard to end this agreement at some point.

Wait, what?

#z recs #lee know fics

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

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she’s so gorgeous gOd

stream sick y’all !!!!

these are stills from her mv🥹🎀

SICK ALEXA (2024)

#alexa #my love

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

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i posted the bang chan au fic right on time because did y’all see my man’s magazine????

HE IS SO GORGEOUS!!!

#z rambles #bang chan

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

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he’ll 😭😭 never 😭😭 stop 😭😭😭😭😭 💗

cinnamon sugar 🌙 k.sm (m)

a/n: the photo above is from seungmin's instagram. i don't own the media, but i sure was blessed to see it. anyway, i think this is my first post with like...actual smut in it. please forgive me, because it is so shitty, i'm so bad at writing it. anyway, uhm, enjoy! my anon ask is now on, if you'd like to send any requests in!

synopsis: her lips taste sweet, like cinnamon sugar...she's such a treat.

pairing(s): best friend!kim seungmin x virgin!reader

word count: 6k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warning(s): swearing, mutual pining, a lot of emotional turmoil from both parties, horribly written smut [between k.sm x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, soft d/s themes, (slight) overuse of pet names (angel, sweetheart) oral (f. receiving), paragraphs of praise, so much kissing, some grinding, the lightest amount of nipple play. riding/missionary, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, they stare into each others eyes and hold hands while fucking oh my god]. this is slightly self indulgent but the guilt i feel after writing it, and so badly at that, is overwhelming.

what to listen to: gaze - sweetback | eat it - megan thee stallion | agora hills - doja cat | real love - mary j. blige | whatta man - salt-n-pepa & en vogue

message from: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:32pm] i’m coming to pick u up, i want a cinnabon.

message to: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:33pm] ur paying 🤑

"can i get aux?" you say as you slide into seungmin's car. the leather of the passenger seat was cool to the touch, a sign that nobody had sat in your self-assigned seat. "hello to you too, best friend. how was my day? oh, it was lovely! it's so nice to see you, too!" "oh, shut up, min. you don't give a shit if i ask those questions or not." you chuckle, snatching his aux cable out of the center console. "you know me so well, fuck. i hate small talk. just merge souls with me." you and seungmin had been best friends for over ten years. he knew you inside and out - from your scalp to the bottom of your feet (including the scar from his razor scooter slamming into your ankle at age sixteen.)

you shared a lot of interests, but none as intense as your love of music and cinnamon rolls. he was always at your dance recitals. your biggest fan, really. he cheered, but never showed you more praise than necessary.

"i need you to stay humble, it helps me tolerate you." he murmured into your hair after one recital last year. you just shook your head in amusement, holding it high as you let him march you to his car for dinner.

"oh, i updated our playlist! i have a few new things on here." you said excitedly as you scrolled through the playlists on your homepage. you shared this love language – you had dozens of collaborative playlists with user ksm922, and you giggled at the ugly photos of the two of you he often used for the covers.

"sure." he shrugs, using his pinky to turn the volume dial up. your eyes trail on his slender fingers as they return to the wheel, but you shake it off just as quickly. pressing play, you let the smooth r&b sounds fill the car.

"oh, this is nice. what is this?" seungmin nods his head along to it, and you glance at the screen. "gaze by sweetback. it played on my sade station, and the vibes are just so kim seungmin, yanno?" you close your eyes and fake being a disc-jockey, his hand coming to pinch your arm lightly, a chuckle playing on his lips. "stop that, you'd be a horrible deejay."

"are you sure this isn't about sex? geez, bub, act like you get some." he teases, and you swat his arm. "i do get some!" "oh yeah? from who?" his eyes are trained on the road as he bullies you about your sex life (or lack thereof), allowing you a moment to stare at his ringed fingers. oh, the way they gripped the wheel, they could so easily grip your neck–

shut up, y/n.

"your mom." you huff, crossing your arms with a pout. you hated this conversation, and you often avoided it with him. yes, seungmin was your best friend, but you never wanted to talk about your sex life with him. he had experiences…and you heard from so many people how good it was.

with him, to be specific.

"what are we, thirteen? you wish my mother would breathe in your direction, you fucking virgin." he scoffs, and you force a snicker out. you glance at your phone, a smirk threatening to escape as it started. "oh, this one is good. turn it up!" he obliged, not even giving the screen a second look.

you settle in your seat as megan thee stallion's voice blares through the speakers, muffling a soft laugh behind your hand. seungmin hated the idea of you being a sexual being, and you often used it to bother him. you liked seeing him get red in the face, and squirm. it doesn't mean you understood it, but it was hilarious.

legs shakin', hit it 'til the bed breaking…bed springing, talk to it…

seungmin's mouth is agape, his cheeks firetruck red…

i don't want just one nut, daddy, i need the whole tree, ah…

…before his nimble fingers press skip.

"are you serious, y/n? in my christian minecraft server?" his eyes are still fixed on the road, his knuckles turning white from his hold on the steering wheel. weird.

"it's megan! i love her, she's the hot girl coach. you don't want me to be a virgin forever, do you?" you joke, and he scrunches his nose. "since when do you listen to music about getting your…ugh, whatever. don't ever bring up sex appeal, you repulse me." you laugh loudly, your hand going to pinch his cheek softly. "you're so cute when you get flustered, min. here, i'll play pretty boy by the neighbourhood in your honor."

he can't stop thinking about it. it's been four hours since you played the song in the car, and it's still stuck in his head. well, what he did hear.

you, inherently, did not come across as a sexual being. you didn't, and that wasn't seungmin being just a platonic, nice friend – you genuinely did not care to be the core of anyone's sexual desire. you wore oversized shirts and loose jeans, the occasional dress paired with black pantyhose and boots. "gotta hide my ankles, minnie. that's how they getcha." but thinking about you…listening to that song? your hips winding down on some other man like he's seen you do on stage? hell, some other man's face when he's right here?

it made him sick.

and you were so beautifully unaware as you swirled your fork in your cinnamon roll, bringing the tines to your lips and sucking the icing clean off them. not a second lick or adjustment, just straight off. he felt his cheeks heat as his cock twitched in his pants, and he almost missed you waving your fingers in his face. "yo, you good? you seem distracted." you have a bit of icing on your lip, and he subconsciously reaches over to wipe it off. your eyes are wide as he does so, and he doesn't know why he can't move his thumb from your lip. he doesn't know why everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and he just watches as you instinctively suck your lip between your teeth at the loss of contact.

you're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.

"i'm good. do you want to go?" he's surprised to hear his own voice, and you nod absently. he was acting weird, he knew he was, but he feels like there's a fog in his brain that he can't shake. maybe it was the way he'd memorized every curve of your body, from watching your fluid dances. maybe it was the way that you smiled so innocently, you were so innocent. your eyes big and pure, your heart full, your mind…naïve.

he didn't understand the sudden urge to ruin you, but he knew he had to get over it, and fast.

"fuck." he groans, and your head whips around to look at him. "you okay?"

he nods quickly, his hand landing on the small of your back to guide you to the car faster. "min, if you have to shit, you can just say that." "ugh, shut up. you always say the most unhinged shit. no wonder you can't get laid." he rolls his eyes, and you just laugh. "trust me, it's not for lack of opportunity." you let him open the door for you, and you wink at him playfully, his fingers flicking your forehead before shutting the door. it was true, multiple of your friends had offered to…deflower you. hyunjin, on your dance team. minho, on your production team. felix, your choreographer. even their friends in the music department had offered, and you simply smiled, shaking your head at them. "i just like to flirt, your dick is your problem."

but much like seungmin, they had all seen the way you moved. how easily you sunk to your knees, how smooth your gyrations were, the way you looked like you enjoyed it. you felt good knowing people were attracted to you, but it never compared to what you believed was seungmin's innocent gaze.

it was weird to want more from him, and it pained you, slightly. he was cute, your best friend. cute, experienced, and he knew you. he knew you so well, what could go wrong? he could reject you, that's what.

you're in your own head when you realize the car has been moving, and rather fast, at that. "min, seriously. are you shitting your pants?" you roll your eyes, and he brings the car to a screeching halt. "bro, your brakes." you cringe, covering your ears as he pulls into his driveway.

"are you going to kill me? no way, jisung always said i'd go out this way. please, tell my mother i love her and make sure i get the best spot in heaven." you feign terror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, not noticing the way seungmin can't even look at you. you feel how hard he slams his door, and you give his car a pitiful look as you slide out, following him to his apartment. he lived on the first floor, what a privilege.

he doesn't look at you as he walks into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. "y/n, i have a question."

"oh? mr. attitude has a question, does he?" you smile sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest, the cowhide leather of the letterman you stole from him in high school rough against your skin. "alright, let's hear it." "why are you still a virgin?" okay, not what you were expecting. don't let it fluster you. you don't really notice his hardened expression as you try to answer. "well…it's just not on my list of priorities. i'll get fucked when i get fucked, you know?"

you shrug, not thinking much of your answer as he steps closer. "hm, i don't buy it."

raising an eyebrow, you shake your head, unbuttoning the jacket. "you're acting so weird, seungmin. if you wanna fuck me, just say that."

you sound surprisingly confident, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you slide the jacket off, draping it over the couch. you gather your hair forward, spinning to speak to him again. "did you still want to watch the mov-" you're cut off by his lips pressing against yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. you can't move, your hands frozen as he works you carefully, lips burning against your own. his movements feel desperate, and you let your body take over as you kiss him back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as your tongue slips between them. the kiss is hungry, his hands are digging into you so deeply you're sure you'll bruise.

he stops. his fingers let go of your hips, and he pulls away, your lips chasing after his as he does. your lip gloss is glittering on his face, before he covers his eyes. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i have no idea what came over me, i…i'm sorry, please, let me take you home."

you can't speak, your mind still swirling with endorphins. your best friend of ten years just made the biggest move on you, and without a word, you managed to fumble it. no way. absolutely not.

"sorry for what? i'm not understanding." you suddenly feel very vulnerable, your skin littering with goosebumps at the sudden change in the air. "i'm perfectly fine with…whatever you were doing."

seungmin peers back at you through dark eyes. "no, y/n. we can't." he swipes his keys off the table, and you huff. "and why can't we, seungmin? what is so bad about kissing me?" his eyes are wide as you ramble, and it's all word vomit. you can't seem to stop it, but he's drinking every word.

"what is it? am i a bad kisser? is it because i'm a virgin? i don't think it's very fair that you can openly admit to being other girls' firsts but you can't even do that for me. you haven't even offered. i'm not saying you fucking have to, because you're my best friend and you always will be. but holy fuck, seungmin, i'm trying to get some. you said i should, so why not be the one i get it from?"

you're out of breath, and seungmin just shakes his head as he takes one, two steps back in front of you. "you think i don't want to be your first? you think i don't want you all to myself, to ruin you for anyone else? you think i don't want to fuck you stupid, until all you know is my name? are you hearing yourself right now?"

"you're certainly not acting like it. it doesn't have to mean shit, seungmin. it's just sex." you roll your eyes, leaning on the couch. "it's not just sex, y/n. this is a huge step for you, for us. our friendship is on the line, and i don't want to do something you might regret later." you shake your head, and he hates when you get stubborn like this, you won't listen to reason. "still not seeing the issue here. i lose my virginity and gain some experience for the next guy, you get your dick wet. we go to bed, and we act like it didn't happen in the morning. you take me home, we listen to our playlists on the way there, and we go about our days."

he flings his keys onto the floor, his hands reaching to hold your face. he tucks a few strands behind your ears, fingers lovingly caressing your pierced lobes before he looks you dead in the eyes. "y/n, if i give you what you want tonight, there is no chance in hell you're going to fuck someone else."

you stare back at him silently, your eyes darting to his lips before your tongue peeks out to wet your own. it's not the worst thing in the world, being with seungmin. it could be good…and not just the sex. he knows you, you know him…his lips felt like they were made for you. they always had, since your drunken kiss on christmas eve.

"you say that like it's a threat." you challenge, and he bites back a smile, nodding his head. his hand has traveled to your hip, his other still holding your face when his nose touches yours, his breath hitting your lips. "if you want me to stop at any point, just let me know. understand, sweetheart?"

you nod, leaning forward to connect your lips. he pulls back, shaking his head. "i need to hear you say you understand."

"jeez, seungmin, i understand. i get it, can we please move this along?" you're not the least bit embarrassed as you whine against him, and he lets you kiss him. your lips are eager, your hands carding through his hair as he licks into your mouth. the kiss is all teeth and tongue, a soft moan interrupting it as he gives your clothed breast a gentle squeeze, his thumb working over your pebbled nipple. "min, i…" "what, tell me what you want, sweetheart." his lips trail down your jaw, nipping along your exposed neck carefully. your whines are like heaven to him, "n-need you.." "aw, you need me? need me where?" he's loving this, the way you squirm under his lips, under his nimble fingers. you push your chest into him involuntarily, "h-here. please?"

you grab his wrist, a wave of confidence taking over as you guide his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers are cool against your clothed heat, a soft wet patch forming on the fabric. his eyes are wide as he instinctively lets his hand run over the spot, watching as you flinch, lip caught between your teeth. he presses hard against you, a gasp falling from your mouth. "i haven't even touched you, and look at how wet you are for me. a little pathetic, hm?" "'m’ yours, minnie. always, always been yours." you don’t mean that, he thinks. he's letting you grind against his hand, his gaze transfixed on your face. your brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut as you used his hand to get yourself to the edge. his cock twitches at the little pants falling from your lips, when he decides he's had enough. you nearly cry at the loss of contact, his hand escaping the confines of your plush thighs. "minnie-" "if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my face. let's go, sweetheart." he tugs you towards his bedroom, your legs weak as you try not to stumble behind him. "bed. on your back."

he's pulling his sweater over his head, and you nearly coo at his messy hair in your fucked out state. he feels a flush coat his cheeks as you lay there, waiting for him to tug your pants off. hooking his fingers in your waistband, you lift your hips to make it easier, and he slides your underwear and sweatpants off in one go. you suddenly feel shy, closing your legs.

"ah, ah. it's just me, sweetheart. do you want to stop?" his hands move to your knees, the cool metal of his rings sending a soft shock to your spine. "no, i'm…okay. i'm just nervous." "it's okay, angel. i got you, don't worry." he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose…lips. he lingers there a bit, but doesn't let it deepen as he runs his hands down your legs. his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart for him to settle between. you're soaking, the heat of his stare making anxiety bubble in your stomach. "fuck, you're going to be the death of me." his lips press soft, chaste kisses along your inner thigh, nipping carefully as you mewl. "minnie, please..i..please…" you end in a whimper, and who is he to deny you when you beg so nicely? he buries his nose in your pussy, bumping your clit as he lets his tongue drag through your folds, collecting your sweet, sweet arousal on his face. your hand flies to his hair as his lips suck on your clit, thighs threatening to close around his head. he doesn't care, he'd die a happy man right there between your legs.

"f-fuck, seungmin, ah! right there, holy f-fuh.." you're shaking around his head, bucking your hips into his face as gently as you can muster. he loves it, but he can't tell you that as he drowns in the scent of you, the obscene sounds of his tongue against you paired with your pretty whimpers ensuring he'd probably cum in his pants. "oh, b-baby i'm gonna.."

his hand reaches for yours, interlacing your trembling fingers with his, his other hand massaging your thigh in encouragement. he can barely bring himself to talk, a soft moan of his against your clit sending you over the edge, a soft cry of his name echoing in the room. "that's it, good job angel. you did so well for me, hm?" he's still lapping at you, not wanting to miss a single shiver or whimper from your body. "s'always that good? min?" he peers up at you from his spot between your legs, your lips parted as you blink, a tear rolling down the side of your face. he moves up to wipe it away, but you take his hand in yours, kissing his palm softly. "you okay? we can stop." he presses his forehead against yours, not able to process your cute gesture without wanting to bawl. you nod, a lazy smile crossing your lips as you reach to kiss him. "m'all good, minnie. do you…want me to help you?"

you can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, practically begging to be set free, and you teasingly buck up against it. he inhales sharply, shaking his head, "i want tonight to be about you. i want to make sure you feel good, okay? are you sure you want to continue?" "yeah, m'all yours." you sigh against his lips, a chaste kiss from you to him. "can i take this off, sweetheart?" he yanks lightly on your shirt, and you nod. you help him tug it over your head, your fingers reaching backwards to unclasp your bra. he feels like all the air is sucked out of the room as you lay beneath him, for him, in all your glory. every curve he's imagined just as gorgeous. "you're staring, it's making me shy." your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "no, no, fuck, you're gorgeous. look at you, oh my god, i.." he trails off, his hands resting on your tummy. "you just went down on me, and you're short-circuiting over my tits, kim?" your teasing is not helping his brain, but the attitude brings him back to reality. "you know that's not all it is, stop it." he rolls his eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. it's soothing, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. he dips his head between your breasts, trailing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach. "you're so beautiful. i'm literally the luckiest person in the entire universe." he's mumbling to himself mostly, but you feel soft tears prick at your eyes. his lips latch around one of your nipples, a gasp from you making him pull off with a pop. "can i…are you sure you want this, y/n? i really, really don't want you to regret this."

you grab his face in your hands, your thumbs lightly padding over his cheeks. "i want you, entirely. in this life, in the next life. okay? i got you, don't worry." you echo his words back to him, and he bites his lip, a hint of something in his eyes as he pulls back to unbuckle his pants. kicking them off quickly, you wait until he straightens to take a peek.

the rumors were true. he's thick, his tip a soft mauve. your mouth is watering at the sight, when a snap of his fingers catches your attention. "eyes up here, sweetheart. i want you to look at me, can you do that?"

you nod, a shy smile on your lips as he goes to spread your knees again. "no, wait, minnie…" he feels his heart skip a beat at your voice, eyes flickering to yours in concern. "i…can i be on top? i read that…it can be better that way." you swallow thickly, and he feels the tips of ears burn but a smile grazes his features. "you studied for sex?"

any awkwardness is gone. you scoff, a light smack landing on his arm. "forgive me for wanting to be in control."

"you want to be in control? okay. fine, but you won't last long." he shrugs, sliding onto the bed behind you, eyes taking in the curve of your ass before you turn. "lay back, asswipe." "watch the attitude, or i'm shutting this shit down." he says, eyes serious as you feel your cheeks heat. you watch as he gets comfortable on his pillows, and you crawl over to him, your hands brushing against his sides as you straddle him. "we can go as slow as you want, okay?" his words are reassuring as his hands reach for your thighs, and you nod.

you take a deep breath, lightly letting your cunt drag along his length, his tip bumping your clit. you shiver, a buzz going up your legs as he takes your hips in his hands, manually guiding you over his cock. "did you read about this too?"

"shut up." you roll your eyes, his hands holding you in place. he looks…so convincing like this. like everything will go back to normal after this, like everything will be the same. he'll still be your best friend, and you'll still be desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him. it's overwhelming, and you just bite your lip, shaking your head. "you're staring." "your dick is twitching, but i'm not saying shit." scoffing, you take him in your hand gently, lining him up with your aching center. you sink down slowly, the tip barely swiping your entrance when you grimace, a hiss escaping your lips as you screw your eyes shut. "i know, angel. here, let me help you." seungmin pulls you closer, his back against his headboard, careful not to pull out. you watch as his hand snakes between the two of you, his thumb softly circling your clit, your eyes threatening to close. "eyes open." you oblige, feeling a gush of arousal at his command, and you have no room to feel embarrassed when he begins to shallowly fuck into you, matching the pace of his thumb. your eyes are glossy as you move your hands to hold onto the headboard, your chest flush to his face. he kisses your shoulder, your soft whimpers music to his ears.

"deeper? or stay like this?" he asks, voice shaking slightly, the warmth of your pussy almost staggering. it's humiliating how worked up you have him, but you need to stay humble. it helps him tolerate you. "d-deeper, is okay."

his arms wrap around your waist tightly, slowly pulling you down further, a whine escaping your throat as your hands move to his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. he's trying not to cum from the way your pretty cunt swallowed him so perfectly, taking him so well. made for him, just him. "m'so full, minnie." you clench around him, and it takes all his willpower not to finish. he's not far, he's practically seeing stars…but the way you're looking at him, you're so pretty, so ready to cry over his cock. he needs to drag this out as long as he can.

"y-you can move, if you want. p-please, want to feel you." you're pleading, he knows. he swallows, confidence wavering as he nods, slowly thrusting up into you, the squelch immediately catching his attention, eyes tearing from yours. he watches the way you take him, your body begging to be ruined by him. he moves a little faster, your mind beginning to blur as he falls into a rhythm.

your nails are digging into his shoulders, your lip caught between your teeth as his hips rock against yours. his eyes flicker back to your face, and you manage a quick wink. he feels his cheeks burn beet red as he looks away. he feels like such a fucking virgin, when he is the one that's your first, not the other way around. pretty girl on his lap and he can't even look at you.

he wishes you had been his first, too, and he wishes you would have asked him sooner. you're so smart, you're so gorgeous, your lips taste like cinnamon sugar. fuck, he loves you. you're his best friend, you feel so good around him and you know him so well. he loves you, so fucking much.

his hips come to a slow, your moan drawing out as he drags his cock against your walls at an agonizing pace. "'still want to be in control, angel?" his lips press to your clavicle, and you nod against his neck. "will you tell me if it's good?"

he pulls you back, hand coming up to caress your face. "how could it not be, when it's you?"

you don't say a word, allowing his lips to meet yours in a chaste kiss. he slumps a bit, and you maneuver so his back is almost flat on the bed, and you try not to moan as the movement makes his cock hit you just right. "whenever you're ready, just use me how you want to." you feel a flutter in your stomach, giving an experimental roll of your hips, your hands flat on his side. raising your hips, your thighs tremble as you start a rhythm, bouncing on him carefully. he's watching you, the way you move so fluidly, like you're dancing. like you're enjoying him, using him, making his brain feel useless. he can't speak, just drinking in this picture of you he's never going to get to see again after tonight, taking in your throaty moans.

"m-minnie?" your eyes are low, your hands moving to his chest, pushing your breasts together. fuck, you are art. "y-yeah?"

he can't even focus as you whimper, clamping around him like a vice, moving slightly faster. "m'close, i can't..i.." you're still looking at him, and he can't. he can't take it, using his strength to flip you on your back. he interlaces your fingers, pinning your hands above you as he roughly fucks into you, sharp cries falling from your lips.

his head dips, lips dragging along your jaw as he whispers in your ear. "this is where you belong. under me, begging for me. got it?"

you feel chills cover your body as you nod, "y-yes, god, yes." "good girl." he's so unsure of himself, he's so afraid he'll scare off your high but he needs to know. "did you mean what you said earlier?" he's speaking through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the gloss in your eyes.

"hmm?" your brows furrow, your bitten lips slightly agape as his thrusts become sloppy, and he just shakes his head, opting to kiss you instead. hoping it'll help the knot in his stomach go away, hoping it will help you forget he asked. you can't help but pant into his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips. "you can let go, sweetheart. you did so well for me, yeah? i got you." you don't register how tightly you squeeze his fingers, or how deeply you're kissing him as you feel the white hot sensation rip through you. he's drunk off you, and you can feel him spurting inside you, his cum trickling out of you as his thrusts come to a slow, slow, stop.

but he doesn't, his lips don't. he can't stop kissing you, he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to tell you how you made him feel, how he can never see you the same again. he doesn't want to watch you walk out of his apartment tonight and possibly never be able to talk you again. he doesn't want to ever, ever hear about you doing this with some other guy, but he made his bed.

your thighs are trembling around him, and you tug your fingers out of his grasp, pulling as far away from his mouth as you physically can. he pouts, chasing after them, only stopping when your eyes blink slowly at him.

"you alright?" his voice is soft, almost scared. you nod, swallowing thickly as you look away, tears forming in your eyes. "ah, talk to me, y/n. it's okay." "i meant it. what i said, earlier. i…don't know why i said it, i never planned on saying it. i'm sorry if it's going to make things awkward." you feel a tear escape, your hand quickly pawing it away. "awkward? with you? it’s not possible." he murmurs, and you glance at him, but he's staring at the pillows above your head.

"but you don't feel the same way." you say, almost as if you're trying not to hurt your feelings by letting your own words reject you, instead of him. he shifts, and you realize he's still inside you. he props himself up on his elbows, hands holding his head up as he peers at you. "you think i don't?"

"i know you don't." you laugh coldly, and he smiles. "yeah, miss sex expert? you know everything? did you read that, too?"

"ugh, stop. i'm never telling you anything again." you're becoming increasingly aware of your nudity, and seungmin can feel the hot flame of shame creeping up his back. he shakes his head, hating the way his blushing cheeks burn so bright. "i want you to tell me everything, forever. i love knowing you, i love trusting you. i'm glad you trusted me with this."

you can't look at him. his hand moves to make you look at him, fingers lightly squeezing your jaw. "and i meant what i said, too. you can't fuck anyone else. only i can see you like this, okay?"

his eyes are searching your face, watching you attempt to nod. "and…" he sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "and i love you. i love your smile, and how you laugh when you play sex songs in the car. i love when we split cinnamon rolls, because you always try to take the bigger piece as if i won't just let you have it. i love when you say my name because it rolls so nicely off your tongue. i love how you move so effortlessly, and how you remember every little thing about anyone, ever. i love that you're funny, and you're so passionate. i love that you're so smart, far too smart to think that i wouldn't sell my soul to live an eternity by your side." his voice is trembling, and your eyes are wide and full of tears, full of adoration, of love for the stupid boy hovering above you.

"i love you, please. please say you're mine." his tears spill, and your lips part, a soft sob escaping as you pull him close, the cool metal of his necklace dragging against your damp skin. "i'm yours, always. i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. i love you." you mumble against his lips, your tears mixing with his on your cheeks.

"thank fuck, i was about to end it all thinking about you doing that fucking trick on someone else." he mutters, and you snort as he buries his face. "that wasn't in the article, funnily enough. it just felt like the right thing to do. think if i pierced my clit, it'd feel better for you?" you ponder aloud, and he nips at your skin.

"don't even start, i haven't even pulled out." he groans, and you laugh loudly. "you're so pretty." he pouts, and rolls his eyes as they start filling with tears, your hand quickly wiping the ones that spilled. "is this going to happen every time? i kind of hate it."

"god, i hope so. i love seeing you like this for me." you tease, and he scrunches his nose. "shut up. stay humble, it's the only way i tolerate you." he nuzzles his nose back into your neck, and you let him stay there, carding your fingers through his hair.

"y/n?"

"yes, seungmin?" "i'm yours, you know that?"

"mmm, i do now. just mine?" "just yours. always." he nods as he pulls himself off you, placing a kiss on your temple, before brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. "someone has to fuck the attitude out of you, and i'm so glad it's gonna be me." you feel your skin heat at his words, and you smack him lightly. he gives a playful thrust, making you gasp before slowly pulling out. "you're off the hook for now, my angel. let's get you cleaned up." he doesn't stop kissing your face in the shower, or when he's shampooing your hair. he doesn't stop kissing your shoulders as he towels you dry, or your tummy when he works lotion into your skin. he can't keep his hands off you, even when you say you need to put clothes on. he can't get enough of the burn of your skin against his, and moves as fast as a human possibly can stripping the sheets off his bed and replacing them.

he can't stop, and he won't stop kissing you, splitting cinnamon rolls with you, or singing sex songs in the car. he can't stop, and he won't stop, supporting you at your recitals and fucking you stupid as a reward. he can't stop, and he won't stop filling your cup until it's overflowing, making you laugh until you cry, and dragging moans of his name from your throat.

he can't stop, and he will never stop, loving you.

#z recs #seungmin fic

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

Note

I would love to see one with chan where they’re friends and she’s going on a date and he doesn’t want her too! Maybe a bit of angst/a mini fight but he ends up confessing and she reciprocates it would be so cuteee!! :)))

miscommunicated love

pairing: bang chan x reader word count: 1531 genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst, unrequited (but not really) warnings: none network: @skzstarnet request by: @missvanjii

Sometimes you wonder if you deserve love. The red and white decor across town was a blur as the bus drove to your workplace. After twenty-four years of being single the holiday was just another day for you. It neither makes you happy nor sad. What you really yearned for was romantic love. No, a correction. Returned romantic love.

Your heels click clack upon entering your work building. A small smile is on your face as you say your greetings and sit at your cubicle, preparing yourself for the work day ahead of you. A message comes in from one of your friends, Chan. You don’t check it.

Three years ago you met Chan at a friend’s housewarming event. You became close to Haewon very quickly, even though she was your new coworker. And after numerous lunches and dinners, she became one of your best friends in this foreign country. Haewon told you about Chan before you two met. She emphasized how well you two would get along because you both were movie nerds. And that’s where it started.

This push and pull, the picking petals of roses, does he love me, does he love me not.

“We should see a movie together, since we both love them,” He joked.

I’m sure Haewon drilled into his mind that we must meet as well.

“Wait, I would actually be down for that if you’re serious,”

A shy smile crept on his face as he scratched the back of his head slightly nodding along to the idea, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

He cleared his throat as he took your phone and punched in his number.

“I’m looking forward to it,”.

After you two finally made arrangements, you began to wonder. Is this a date?

You questioned Haewon.

“Well, are you guys going alone or did he invite another friend? What exactly did he say over text?”

And the spiral began. You were too nervous to ask Chan if it was a date, because what if it was and then he got weirded out that you couldn’t just pick that up from the first time or he thinks you don’t want it to be a date, when in reality you do and then he decides he no longer wants to go out with you.

If it is a date do you dress up? But what if it isn’t and then you just look awkwardly dressed up for nothing and he thinks you’re weird but what if it is and you don’t dress up and he thinks that you’re not interested.

Haewon tries to tell you that these spirals are nonsensical and that Chan’s a really sweet guy. You should just ask him. But that started another spiral.

You settled on a nice sweater with some jeans, minimal makeup. Casual but not too casual.

Chan smiled as you opened the door. “Wow, you look great!”

Your face warmed, maybe this was a date. “Thank you, so do you.”

“And you changed your hair,”

Right. Since the last time you saw him you recently put in braids. “Yeah, I did,”

During the ‘date’, you couldn’t help but notice how distant he was from you. He was nice enough to buy the tickets and the popcorn. But he spoke only when spoken to.

On the ride home you asked unwillingly just to confirm your fears, “Did… you want someone else to come with us?”

He looked taken aback, as if he didn’t expect you to ask this question.

“Uh did you?”

“I don’t know,”

After that awkward encounter, you made Haewon promise to never set you up with any of her friends again.

You and Chan talked more though. And you realized, he probably didn’t want to be on that date in the first place. You got along well as friends, to the point of where he can call and text you freely. Just like the text he sent today. Usually you guys’ friend group hang out on holidays but with this being Valentine's day and almost all of your friends being in a relationship, that most likely isn’t the plan for this day.

At work, you were very quiet. You did your work and went back home. Apart from Haewon, you didn’t really talk to anyone else. Which is why you were surprised during your break when Doyoung came up to you.

“Hi Y/N” He said.

You saw him around the office from time to time. You’re not from the same department but you frequently have had meetings together.

“Hi,” This was your first time talking to him directly.

“This might come off really rash, but are you free? Later?”

“I am, why?”

“Would you like to get dinner together? I know we don’t talk much but I do want to get you better and it doesn’t have to be anything serious even though it’s Valentine’s, I just want to–”

“Yes, I do.” You smiled at him nicely. “I would like that very much,”

He smiled back at you, “Great so I’ll pick you up at 7?.”

You nodded at him and he waved shyly before leaving. Your phone buzzed again. You forgot to check Chan’s message.

‘Hey Y/N, you free tonight?’ ‘Answer meee - - I know you have work but all of our friends are going out on dates. Soooo wanna hang?’

‘Can’t sorry T.T ! I have a date hehe’

‘Y/N don’t play around - -’

‘I’m not lol. Someone from work just asked me out and I said yes.’

‘Oh’

You couldn’t help but think about the tone of his message. He seemed upset. But he has no reason to be upset. You’re friends. And he made it clear that’s all you’ll ever be.

You pouted at yourself in the mirror as you redid your edges.

You wanted to be excited for this date. The possibility of new beginnings. Moving on. But it doesn’t seem likely with Chan in your life. Always wondering what could have been.

You were putting final touches on your makeup when you heard your apartment bell ring.

You saw Chan on the security camera.

“Chan?” You spoke through the intercom.

“Y/N can we talk?”

You let him up.

He was wearing his infamous black hoodie, paired with the matching beanie, trying to hide his unruly curls underneath.

“Why are you here Chan?” You said, “I’m not going to be here for much longer, I told you. I’m going out tonight,”

“Yeah I know your date.” He sighed before speaking again, “Do you really have to go though, I mean who is this guy? Does Haewon know him?”

“Why does all of that matter? We work together and he asked me out. I don’t have a Valentines, so I’m going. Simple,”

“But,”

“But nothing Chan. I really don’t see why you’re worked up about this.”

“I can’t help but get the sense you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad. I’m confused and I’m frustrated and annoyed. Okay you know what I am mad at you. Who are you to come to my apartment, thirty minutes before my date and start question question me?”

“Who am I? Y/N what do you mean? Am I not special in your life? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Chan I didn’t say that,” You breathed.

Your eyes locked together. He was pleading, begging you’d understand what he means. The true intent of his questions. Of him being there, without him saying it word for word.

“I don’t know what’s going on. With you. With our friendship –”

He sighed.

“What?” You questioned.

“You did it again.”

“What did I do?”

“Friendship?’

“Are we not friends? Chan this is getting ridiculous”

He said nothing.

“I am sick and tired of this Chan. You were the one that drew that boundary and now that I respect it and am desperately trying to move on, I’m the evil one? For not playing into the uncertainty and unambiguousness?”

“A boundary? What are you talking about?”

“The stupid movies. I don’t even know if it was a date but the first time we hung out one on one. I could tell you were only doing it because of Haewon and you were uncomfortable the whole time. You barely glanced at me. You barely spoke to me” You rolled your eyes.

“No. God I’m so stupid. Y/N I was so nervous. I could barely look at you because I didn’t know what to say. And then you brought up if I wanted to invite someone else, I couldn’t help but think I bombed our first date and ruined my chance at getting a second.”

“Wait so,”

“I like you. A lot. And I’m so sorry.”

“Well, I like you too you idiot,”

He looked up with a small smile on his face, “Does this mean you won’t go on that date,”

You returned his smile and locked your hands around his neck, “I cancelled it from I let you up here. Even if this didn’t go the way it did, I would not be able to go on a date with someone else after seeing you,”

“Y/N I promise you, I’ll do better,”

“I will too,”.

a/n:

reblogging helps writers so if you really liked it please reblog !

hihi:) finally got the motivation and courage to reread this, edit this and post it, even though i didn't like it very much. thank you so so much for the request!! i appreciate it and trust i will start working on your minho request too. thank you guys for following and reblogging my work. like you don't understand, every reblog makes me so happy. so if you like this, please reblog and comment. it'll make my day!! i'm not doing the best mentally so i apologize that fics are not just coming out so frequently, but i'm trying. i've talked for too long. i wish y'all love and happiness your way!! 🥹🫶💗

#z writes #z asks #bang chan fic #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan friends to lovers #bang chan imagines #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz fics #skz angst #skz fluff #chan x y/n #🎀.missvanjii #skzstarnet

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lovestaysblogs · 2 months

Text

this is so so so sweet 😭😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶 i love this so much

Burning in the winter wind

changbin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort but it’s a light fluffy read!! college!au. (wc: 4.4k)

summary : Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

a.n: sahar finally writing a fic that doesn’t take an emotional turn… we cheered!!!!!!!!!!!!! my 3rd fic for the winter falls collab with my writer :,) if u haven’t checked out xi’s fics yet what are u waiting for!!!!! please enjoy reading, i hope you’ll like this one too <3 i love you muah

“Are you okay?”

It is quite difficult to roll your eyes when your face is pressed against the snow, you’ve found, so much so you're sure you’re breathing in dainty snowflakes rather than the intended oxygen.

A dull pain emanates from your right ankle, the very one you just twisted while attempting to ski down a sled, making you plummet head-first into the hard ground. Despite how soft snow looks as it blankets the earth in a pristine white, it is quite incapable of cradling your fall. Instead, its snowflakes seem to liquefy, filtrating through your clothes and making a biting cold cascade down your spine.

Clearly, you are far from okay; hence, your eyes roll in a silent protest at the stranger’s questioning, though they cannot see you. If you further bury your head in the snow and do not move, would they think you are a collective hallucination and spare you the embarrassment of helping you?

“Um, should we call an ambulance?”

Clearly not.

“I'm peachy!” you throw a thumbs-up in the air, not bothering to lift your face off of the ground, you’re sure that by now the blank canvas beneath you has reluctantly molded itself to the contours of your face.

Much prettier than a snowman, you’d personally argue.

“Are you sure?” the tentative voice quips up again and you suddenly feel bad for ignoring this passerby, now stuck comforting an odd person whose limbs are not adequately crafted for skiing.

“Yeah,” you finally turn around, realizing that the pain in your ankle will not disappear, even if you choose to ignore it. “Just resting, on the snow. The view is nice from here, you know.”

The stranger backs away subtly at your words, and you chuckle inwardly.

“I got it.” Someone else speaks from your left and their voice carries a familiarity that drapes an uncomfortable weight atop your lungs. You pivot your head incredibly slowly, locking eyes with none other than Changbin.

You scoff outwardly.

“Need help?” he asks, hovering above you like a shadow.

Changbin was once your partner in a lab chemistry project, he is also the one person you now avoid most in college.

So, you do what any sensible person would in your place— you turn away, once again pressing your face into the comforting oblivion of the snow.

“I… can still see you.” His words linger, hesitating in the crisp winter wind, and you respond with a (now more effortless) roll of your eyes.

“I know.”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“If I pretend you are not here long enough, will you finally tire and leave me alone?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you huff, turning back once more. You summon the resolve to finally push your torso up from the pits of your embarrassment, before glancing down at your ankle, only to find that it has doubled in size. An angry scream bubbles up in your throat, but you will yourself to tame the fire within— if you think slightly more about your situation, you’d burst into tears right here and then.

“That needs to be treated,” Changbin states simply, his eyes also locked on your injury. You shut your eyes closed, forcing a deep breath to travel through your lungs. The oxygen you just inhaled seems only to fuel your anger more.

“I actually think it’s fine,” you put on the brightest smile on your face, yet your eyes refuse to follow the movement of your lips, making you look like a catatonic doll. You hope that’s enough to make Changbin go away.

“Who are you lying to?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.

You’re wrong. Again.

His self-assured tone further aggravates you, so you will yourself to stand up, wincing as soon as your right foot touches the floor. You bite your lip hard enough to draw out blood, the metallic taste of it coating your tongue uncomfortably.

“See, I can stand!” you say cheerfully and he crosses his arms before his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Try walking.”

“I actually wanna stay here.”

“Still as stubborn, I see,” he sighs, before bending his knees slightly. Next thing you know, you’re scooped up in his arms, your hands wrapping around his neck instantly.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, eyes darting furiously over his face.

“Carrying you to the infirmary.”

“I can see that,” you say between your teeth. “I said I'm fine.”

“You clearly aren’t.”

“What are you? an ankle expert?”

“When your parents own the ski resort you kind of become one,” his eyes meet yours once, still as emotionless as they’ve always been when they gaze at you.

“Do your parents own this?” you clear your throat, surprise overtaking your tone.

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell them to upgrade my room to a suit, then?” you bat your eyelashes at him, your smile as sweet as saccharin.

“You literally buried your head in the snow two minutes ago because you wanted me gone.”

“Exactly,” you nod vigorously, “that was two minutes ago, I am a changed person now.”

“Yeah?” he smirks slightly, the corners of his mouth almost tugging upwards. “What changed?”

You shrug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn't know your parents owned the resort.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“It's not broken, thankfully, just sprained. You need to ice it, and not put any pressure on it. Keep your leg elevated at all times, and avoid walking at all costs.” Maria’s voice reaches your ears in waves, the pain in your ankle making it harder to grasp what she’s instructing you to do. Still, you easily understand that all your winter break plans are now officially ruined.

“But I wanna ski,” you pout at the fifty-something nurse who smiles sympathetically at you, handing you a cooling balm.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then.” Changbin deadpans before she can reply and your right eye squints in annoyance. Maria catches it and winks at you.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then,” you mimic, voice high-pitched. He simply shakes his head, a ghost of a smile appearing for a second on his lips, before disappearing promptly.

“Thank you, Maria,” he bows slightly, his voice sounding kinder when it speaks to everyone but you.

“Welcome, baby,” she squishes his cheeks before patting them gently, and you stifle a giggle at the blush sprouting on his face.

Maria leaves the room, stating that she has another patient to check up on. Your eyes remain downcast, glaring at your ankle as if it’ll scare your body back to health.

“You'll burn a hole into your skin at this rate,” he comments, his hand suddenly appearing in your line of view. You sigh in defeat before reaching for his hand, intertwining fingers as he aids you in rising. His arm becomes a secure anchor around your waist as he guides you toward the elevator. There, he inputs a code on a small panel before pressing button 44.

“That's not where my chamber’s at.”

“I know, I had them move your stuff to the penthouse,” he explains simply as your heart skips a traitorous beat.

“Actually? I was just kidding; I don't want an upgraded room.”

“I wanted to,” his eyes locked on yours, a myriad of stars seemingly swimming in his pupils. “It has easier access for you since it opens up directly in the room.”

“I'll pay you back. How much is the difference?”

He leans in, whispering a six-figure number in your ear and you feel your knees buckle underneath you.

“That much?” your face pales and he nods. “You still want to pay me back?”

A nervous chuckle leaves you as you lock eyes with the camera in the elevator, “thank you Mrs. Seo for the gift,” you bow down to the best of your capacity. “Thank you, Mr. Seo.”

The penthouse is much more spacious than your previous room, vast windows framing breathtaking vistas of pristine mountains. The sound of a crackling fireplace tames the fire within you, morphing it into a harmless ember rather than scorching flames, soothing your soul. A chandelier right above the bed casts a warm glow on the room, that softens your heart and makes you less resentful towards the snow.

“Here,” he sits you down on the edge of the bed, before heading to the mini-fridge across from the room. He takes out a packet of ice before promptly kneeling in front of you.

“It'll be a little cold,” he reassures before placing the ice on your wound. the sarcastic retort you had withers at the tip of your tongue, like a candle flame blown away by a gentle breeze; because Changbin is being gentle to you right now. his eyebrows scrunching as he makes sure not to hurt you even more, his fingers encircling just above your ankle to hold you in place. Clad in his black hoodie and joggers, the tenderness of his touch is an echo of softness from days long past.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your voice would get lost in the crinkling of the wood. It doesn’t, as Changbin looks up at you, pausing his movements. “For helping me,” you add, “you didn’t have to do it.”

“It's okay. You’re not a stranger, so…” he trails off, as a buried bitterness floods your throat, akin to downing a shot of acid. You withdraw your ankle from his hold, taking the ice packet from him.

“You can go, I got it,” you smile, yet your eyes flee away from him, refusing to catch his gaze, refusing to peer into that same void that once lured you in.

“Fine. I'll come check on you later.”

As Changbin swiftly exits the penthouse, you sink into the mattress, hands pressed against your forehead, squeezing tight. to Seo Changbin, you were not a stranger. To you, he might have been everything, once.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

You first met Changbin on the stage of your nationwide rap contest, held within the confines of your campus.

You did not know he was, but you were instantly captivated by his incendiary stage presence, and so was everyone around you, gleaming eyes turned unanimously toward him, the air ablaze with loud cheers erupting like a bubbling volcano. The question at the tip of your tongue was a natural one— “Who the fuck is this gorgeous man?”

It was as though he had sensed your inquiry, because soon after he concluded his rap with a boastful line— “They call me,” a pause, his eyes meeting yours, “Seo Changbin,” he finished, a subtle smirk painted on his lips, as if he knew that his name would become a golden trademark, one that the music world would remember for generations to come.

His gaze lingered on you, but you did not shy away from it, you’ve never been one to run away from the things you want. Instead, you smiled at him, a toothy grin that left your cheeks slightly aching afterward.

He did not return the gesture fully, but the corners of his lips did tug upwards, as he dipped his head slightly forward in thanks.

Cute.

You stayed back long enough to witness Changbin accept his well-deserved first place award, clad in his gray joggers, a snug black tank top, and atop it a deconstructed hoodie boasting enticing holes on the side, giving you a generous view of his sculpted muscles. His silver chains glimmered under the resounding flashes, and you felt a surge of pride at this stranger basking in the spotlight.

Your smile only grew wider as Chan and Jisung ran to him, encircling him in his arms and shaking him with palpable happiness. Thunderous cheers erupted, a chorus of voices chanting 'Seo Changbin' at the top of their lungs.

His name will stay with you long after that.

“So, is he single?” you inquired casually a few days later in the university cafeteria, three cups of iced americano placed before you, Chan’s extra sweetened. The latter looked up from his phone, eyes slightly widening, before leaning in.

“You like Changbin?” he asked incredulously and you squint your eyes, moving even closer to him.

“Why? Shouldn’t I?”

“I'm just surprised because you’ve never liked any of the guys I introduced you to.”

“Because they’re all douchebags who can’t keep up with me,” you declared, tossing your hair over your shoulder as Chan smiled amusedly.

“Hey! He introduced me to you,” Jisung chimed in from your left and you rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re better off as friends, Ji.”

That was true, your first, and last date with Jisung, ended up with you ordering sushi and laughing at your Tinder matches at an empty parking lot. He's been one of your closest friends ever since.

“Are we?” Jisung made obnoxious kissing noises and you faked a gag, pinching his arm. Han retaliated by yelling so loudly the entirety of the cafeteria turned to look at you. Chan attempted to cover his face with his palm, a desolated look painted on his features.

“Anyways,” Jisung cleared his throat once he settled again, “he is single. But he’s not looking for anything right now.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t looked at me yet.”

Fate seemed to be on your side because Changbin did look at you after that. Your professor Kim, an unwitting cupid, paired you with him for your chemistry project, and for the following month, you found yourself meeting Changbin every day in the college laboratory, to work on the synthesis and characterization of aspirin.

Changbin was different from anyone you’ve ever taken a liking to. He did not stir violent butterflies in your stomach, nor made your palms sweat endlessly from nerves. Instead, he infused a peculiar serenity within you, enough to make you eagerly count down the minutes until your next meeting.

Contrary to the fiery persona he unleashed on stage, Changbin exuded a calming aura that held you captive each time he drew near. It was impossible to divert your gaze from him, especially when his loose curls cascaded perfectly over his dark brown eyes, ones framed by thick-rimmed black glasses. His scent, a captivating blend of pinewood and spices, lingered like a second skin on your body, trailing after him and enveloping you in its embrace, long after he was gone.

He felt like a winter wind brushing against your skin—strong enough to be felt, yet cool enough to be craved by each one of your senses.

You sensed his gaze upon you as well, felt the subtle brush of his hand against your spine when he moved around you, unnecessary yet deliberate. How he brought you hot chocolate every time you met up to warm up your icy fingers. He was sweet and caring; in a way you’d only notice if you paid attention to the things said silently.

Yet, he remained an enigma—warm on certain days, cold on others. It seemed as if he restrained himself from growing comfortable in your presence, as if you were a bad weed that’d spread through his roots if he dared approach you. Or maybe that was how he viewed himself— a delicate shell with a void inside, guarding itself against any perceived threat.

Who was Changbin, truly? What did he like and dislike? Why did he withhold his smiles, stifle his laughter, and avert his eyes after just a fleeting glance at you? Why did he draw near only to retreat each time you attempted to get close? The questions swirled in your mind, creating a tapestry of curiosity that begged to be unraveled by his hands.

“Wanna come to karaoke with me and hang out tonight?” Chan asked a week after the end of your chemistry project. You hummed non-convincingly, nose buried in your newly purchased book.

“Changbin might come too,” he sang-sung and you quickly perked up, much more interested in his plans now. He snorted at your reaction, and in response, you playfully flashed him your prettiest middle finger.

Chan's disbelief was right though. It was unusual of you to be so expectant of someone’s presence, for your gaze to flee to the door every two seconds awaiting their entrance.

Despite your high hopes, Changbin did not come that night, and as much as you tried to have fun, a sense of disappointment tainted your mood. That, and the realization that he wasn't a mere crush, but something much more to you. The man you couldn’t get a read on was already coursing through your veins when you thought he had only stopped at the surface of your skin.

Muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air, you left the karaoke booth, exhaling heavily, the warmth of your breath translating into silver gusts of air in the chilly night. As you descended the stairs, however, your ankle twisted on the slippery ice, and you found yourself falling, bottom-first, onto the unforgiving concrete.

An ugly sob caught in your throat as hot tears streaked down your cheeks, your palm now scraped and bloody from the impact of the fall, in a useless attempt to soften the blow.

“Let me see,” someone crouched in front of you, and you gasped softly as your eyes met Changbin's concerned gaze.

“Oh god, this is so embarrassing,” you admitted, clasping your eyes shut as he gently held your injured hand in his own, blowing air into the open cuts to soothe their burn.

“I didn't see anything,” he reassured, his tone overly sweet, and you squint your eyes at his obvious lies. “Definitely did not see you trip over nothing,” he added, a teasing smirk drawn on his lips.

“Hey!” you punched his arm playfully and he laughed, full-blown high-pitched giggles you did not think Changbin, out of everybody you knew, would be able to conjure. His eyes were squinted close, his apple cheeks raising higher as he laughed some more, and you felt an electrifying warmth flowing through your being. Suddenly, you were burning in the winter wind.

Suddenly, you wanted to confess.

“Did you just get possessed by a five-year-old girl?” you teased as his laughter quieted down, the smile refusing to leave his face, yet. His eyes softened as they found yours, a simple hum leaving his lips in reply. He applied some pressure on your ankle, checking if it is swollen, but that was the last thing you cared about. The sight of Changbin smiling so freely still running through your mind, again and again. You replayed it enough times since to make sure it was safely guarded in your memory, that the long march of time may not wear it down, graining its delicate edges.

“You should smile more,” you said softly and he looked up at you, a twinkle of gratitude gleaming in his eyes.

“Your ankle is fine. Stay here, okay? I have a first aid kit in my car.” He didn’t wait for you to reply as he jogged up to his vehicle, and you sighed, heart clenching at how affected you were by his simple touches.

“It will sting a little,” he spoke gently once he returned, before dabbing up your cut slightly with an alcohol-drenched pad. You hissed softly and he frowned, pausing in his tracks. “Okay?”

“Mm,” you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

He continued cleaning your cuts, before applying a cooling cream on it and wrapping it in a clean gauze. He hesitated for a few seconds and your breath hitched as he leaned forward, placing the faintest kiss on your palm.

“Healing kiss,” he said shyly, a blush blooming on his face and you giggled, bringing his hand to rest upon your cheek.

“I like you, Changbin,” you said truthfully, simply, even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Tell me, should I stop? I don't want to hurt myself.”

“I…” he began, his words trailing off, interrupted by Chan walking out of the karaoke booth.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, worry clearly dripping from his tone and you cursed inwardly. You loved Chan but you’ve never been more annoyed to see him. Your eyes flee tentatively to Changbin as Chan takes your hand in his, inspecting it.

“Let's go inside, it’s freezing here,” Chan pulled you up and you nodded, as Changbin followed suit, before he stopped you by the door, his hand on your arm. “Come over tomorrow, please? We can talk then.”

“Sure,” you smiled and he nodded, swiping his thumb soothingly along your wrist. “Thank you,” he whispered, before walking inside.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

The landline ringing snaps you away from that long-buried memory, as it disappears before your eyes like morning mist. You rub your forehead tiredly before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I would like to inform you that we'll be coming up with food service shortly,” the sweet receptionist announces in a cheery tone, and you furrow your brow.

“I did not order anything, though.”

“It is on the house. Enjoy your food!” she explains gleefully before hanging up.

On the house meaning it is Seo Changbin's treat. You couldn't help but scoff at the array of food presented before you minutes later, including that damned hot chocolate he always used to bring you, complete with marshmallows on top and colorful sprinkles because why settle for plain when you could have rainbows in your drink.

“He remembers,” ou whisper to yourself before sighing. What was the point of him remembering now? Every bit of hope you had was dismantled two months ago, akin to a hopeful dandelion blown away by the bitter wind.

You bite your lip, contemplating for a few seconds before finally dialing Changbin’s number.

“The food will get cold. Come quickly. I won't wait for you,” you mumble before hanging up and tossing your phone away.

A few minutes later, Changbin enters your room, his cologne still following him like a second shadow. You avoid his eyes as you dig into the seafood pasta, the one he ordered for you.

“Good?” he asks, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Yeah, good."

“Are you okay?” he inquires, taking a bite of the pepperoni pizza.

You knew he was asking about your ankle, and yet, in this moment, sitting on the floor of the penthouse Changbin upgraded for you, eating the food he bought after tending to your injury, you suddenly no longer cared about the state of your body. Instead, an exasperation built up in your throat, directed towards the man who had left you hanging many nights ago.

“You confuse me,” you say honestly, putting down your fork and he frowns. “I confuse you?” he repeats incredulously.

“Yes. You always confuse me and I hate it.” Sudden tears threaten to well in your eyes and you groan, burying your face in a pillow to hide it.

“I can't believe you are saying this,” he whispers, pushing away his plate and you scowl, lowering your silky shield.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never came, y/n,” His voice, draped in heavy emotion, catches you off guard like a sudden storm in the calm of the night. “I waited and waited for you and you never came.”

“I came,” you say quietly, the hurt suddenly feeling fresh within the confines of your heart. “At the wrong time, maybe the right one, I don't know. But I came.”

“What?”

“I came to your dorm only to see you kissing a girl’s cheek and hugging her by your door. You told her you missed her and to come later once you sorted something out. Was I… What? supposed to enter and sit there to hear you reject me?” You say quickly, finally releasing the words that had long haunted you.

An incredulous laugh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling at its edges. “My god, that was my sister.”

“What?”

“She came over unannounced that morning. I actually told her she can't stay the night because I had someone important coming over. That someone being you,” he explains and you feel hot embarrassment flood your being, then relief. For what, exactly? Wasn’t it too late?

“How was I supposed to know?” you ask defensively and his eyes widen as he comes closer to you.

“You could’ve asked me!”

“I was embarrassed because I put my heart bare to you. I told you I liked you when I wasn't even sure you liked me back.”

“Of course, I liked you back.” His voice softens as if it were a truth known to everyone but yourself.

“Then why were you so… distant.”

“Because you scared me, you came into my life unannounced and everything changed around me,” he pauses, a shaky breath escaping him. “Because I wasn’t looking for anything but it turns out I just didn’t know to look for you yet.”

You giggle against your will at his words, shaking your head slightly. “That's exactly what I told Chan when I asked if you were single.”

“See, soulmates,” he grins, satisfied, and you feel tingles pulsate through your entire being at his words.

“Slow down Mr. Seo. We are not even dating yet.”

“Yet? So, is there still a chance?”

“I…” your phone rings and you let out a loud groan as you peek at who's calling— Chan.

“You have the actual worst timing ever dude,” Changbin nearly screams into the phone and you can clearly hear Chan’s confused voice asking “Changbin? Where is yn?”

Changbin hangs up on him without answering, before putting your phone on silent. Then his, for good measure.

“It's like he’s my archnemesis or something,” Changbin sighs and you laugh, amused by his exasperation.

“So,” he clears his throat, a bit shyly, “can we start again? Properly?”

“I don't know… I need to see if something’s still there…” you muse and he cocks an eyebrow at you, leaning even closer.

“And how will you do that?”

You throw your hands around his neck, before resting your cheek on the slate of his shoulders. He remains still for a few heartbeats, only to tighten his hold on you, his lips delicately grazing the exposed canvas of your neck.

“I knew it, you smell nice, and you are really warm,” you sigh contently, closing your eyes as a soothing peace wash over you, all the worries you harbored dissipating at his warmth.

“You smell really nice too,” he whispers and a grin lights up your face.

“I can hear you smiling,” you point out, leaning away slightly to look at him.

“I’m happy.”

“That's cute.”

“You’re cuter,” he says, nuzzling your nose with his own. “Your total for the food is 160 dollars by the way.”

“Can I pay back with my kisses?” you smile cheekily, bringing your lips a hair breadth away from his.

He’s breathless as he finally presses his mouth on yours, “Please do.”

#z recs #changbin fic

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