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eoieopda · 6 months

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FORCE QUIT // EPISODE I: SCRAPS

you didn't have "anti-capitalist revolution" on this year's bingo card, but you never turn down a good time.

pairing: lee felix x reader | series masterlist (1/4) | next episode series summary: it's 2077, and life's a fucking nightmare. corporate titans ate the state and shat it back out, leaving citizens of the new republic to fall in line, or fall to their knees. a reckoning is coming — where will you fall? au: series — dystopian, cyberpunk; episode — childhood friends to strangers to something ➢insp. by: cyberpunk 2077 + the true lives of the fabulous killjoys genre: smut + angst + some fluff word count: 15.4k rating: 18+— minors do not have my consent to interact. series warnings: violence (hand-to-hand, firearms, explosives), depictions of injuries (blood/bruising/burns), some characters have cybernetic modifications, class conflict + poverty, surprise - corporations are bad!, unethical medical/tech experimentation, self-indulgent references to non-skz idols, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns. episode warnings: above + trainer!felix, edgerunner!reader, pov switches, time skips, reference to food insecurity + reader living check to check, reader has cybernetic retinal mods + one in her hand, reader experiences temporary vision loss after being knocked out, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v penetration. a/n: each episode features a different member x reader pairing, but the plot is linear, so you'd need to read them (in order) to get the full picture! you can sign up for the taglist to be notified of the next uploads. thank you to my beloved @sailoryooons for beta'ing this and @jihopesjoint for being my emotional support internet wife even though she doesn't stan skz. ily both endlessly!

You don’t deal in absolutes, but you know two things for sure: vending-machine burritos are a crime against humanity; and Han Jisung is a dirty, rotten bastard.

The firm stance you’ve taken on the latter may or may not have something to do with the former, but you can’t draw that conclusion now — not with the abuse your taste buds are currently suffering, anyway.

“Who the fuck —”

You cut yourself off to spit a mouthful at the ground. Notably, the remnants of that half-chewed abomination look just as awful on the way out as they did on the way in.

“— Replaced this queso with battery acid?”

Chipmunk cheeks stuffed to bursting, Jisung blinks back at you. He says nothing — suddenly too polite to speak with his mouth full — and shrugs, unbothered. That’s when the realization hits you like a boot to the skull. Drenched in disbelief, your muttering comes out in slow-motion:

“You spent the last of our cash on these.”

He swallows, though you don’t know how he could bring himself to do it. That act alone makes the rage you’re simmering in bubble over.

You repeat yourself through gritted teeth, pausing emphatically between every word, “The — last — of — our — cash!”

“My bad?” He eventually offers. Tongue flicking out, he tries to gather the unidentified sauce that clings to the corner of his mouth. He fails. “Not sure what else I was supposed to find with that little money in this part of town, but go off, I guess.”

You bite your lips together to hold back the guttural yell you’re seconds from releasing. At your sides, your empty hands clench tightly. Instead of snapping — with your words or your fists — you close your eyes, inhaling slowly through your nose. Deep breaths won’t do you any fucking good in this smog, but your brain tends to work a little bit better without visual interference.

I can go another twenty-four hours, you think. Maybe.

It’s been a while since you’ve last eaten and even longer since your last job. This isn’t out of the ordinary; gaps are to be expected when you live on the fringe, jumping from thread to thread. Still, it isn’t like Changbin to leave you hanging the way he has been lately. It sure as shit isn’t like him to dodge your calls, either.

So, you figure, if you make an unsolicited visit to his office — the stock room of a bar you know better than to frequent — he won’t have a choice. He’ll have to look you in the eye and explain the dry spell, personally. He owes you at least that much.

With your plan finalized, you hold out your left hand to Jisung. In the few moments you’d taken your eyes off him, he’d apparently gone from sitting on the hood of your car to reclining fully with his own eyes closed. Basking like a little lizard in the sunlight, it’s a miracle the hot metal hasn’t burned a hole in his shirt.

“Come on.” You nudge his bent knee with your knuckles to no avail.

As Jisung is wont to do, he pouts. “But it’s so nice out — and your car still reeks, by the way.”

The absolute, rakish audacity.

If you didn’t love him, you’d probably kill him.

Strike that.

Love is irrelevant. You wouldn’t kill him unless and until there was a price on his head. After all, your mother taught you better than to do the things you’re good at for free.

“Do we want to talk about whose fault that is?” You ask with a roll of your eyes. The affection’s still there; you know he sees it. “If I recall correctly — and I think I do, having been the only sober person present — you were the one who got blasted and barfed on everything I love in this world.”

“I got blasted and barfed exclusively on the floor of your car.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “Exactly. End of list.”

Groaning, Jisung rolls his eyes as far back as they’ll go, but he still takes your hand. He always does, always has. With your help, he scoots his ass down the hood and lands with both boots — precisely where your ejected burrito bite did, not five minutes earlier. You can’t stop the satisfied grin from spreading when he whines again, this time louder and with twice as much despair.

After playfully shoving your passenger towards his door, you unlock your own. You don’t dump yourself into the seat, however; not yet. A wall of horrible heat is waiting for you the second the door opens, and you know better than to run into it, headlong.

Jisung is less patient. He’s also more regretful, face twisting in self-imposed anguish when he drops down onto the sun-scorched leather seat. And, to your delight, the hits keep coming. You watch with a smile when the consequences of last weekend’s actions hit his nostrils. The look he gives you falls somewhere between humbled, apologetic, and absolutely dead inside.

“Not one of my finer moments, I’ll admit it.” He acknowledges with a wave of his hand. Resigned, he sighs, “I’ll scrub the shit out of the floor mats the next time we can afford a wash.”

Satisfied, you finally climb behind the wheel. Pushing through the slightly-muted sting of the seat against the backs of your bare thighs, you put your foot on the brake and lift your right hand to press your thumb to the ignition port. The roar of the engine covers the way your breath hitches, but Jisung doesn’t have to hear it to notice the grimace that accompanies it.

“Still sore?” He asks.

To his credit, he looks genuinely concerned as he reaches across the center console and takes your hand in his. It’s gentle, the way he tilts your palm up, but the movement burns in every single one of your tendons. This time, you know you have a captive audience, so you don’t flinch.

Despite the trouble it’s giving you, you have to admit that the new enhancement looks beautiful in the sunlight. In the center of your palm, two rectangular, silver brackets refract iridescence. Their shine contrasts sharply with the matte, midnight black cybernetic plating that now covers the majority of your palm, spreading to the first knuckle of your fingers but coating the length of your thumb in its entirety.

More than beautiful, it’s deadly — and it aches like a motherfucker.

“I read a study about these ballistic co-processors last night while you were knocked out,” he hums.

Classic Jisung.

He has no medical or academic background whatsoever but wastes his time reading crank doctors’ research for fun. And, of course, he makes sure to mention it — casually and apropos of mostly nothing — in order to impress.

Gingerly, he runs his finger along the edge of the cyberware, mumbling, “It usually takes five days from installation for the musculoskeletal inflammation to chill.”

Your fingers twitch of their own volition, which prompts him to look up at you curiously.

“Yeah, well…” You grunt.

Less carefully than you should, you pull your hand from his, tap the gear shift, and throw the car into reverse. Peeling out of the lot, you scoff without even bothering to look his way:

“It’s been ten.”

When the War came and went, it took the old way of life with it on its way out. You might’ve been late to the party by fifty or so years, but you’ve got the gist now. It goes something like this:

Korea, as it was once known, crumpled like a beer can in the face of a corporate uprising and was quickly kicked curbside with the trash. In its place came the New Republic — in all its stolen, neon glory — promising technological revolution, profit in excess. Although the world’s eyes were trained on the peninsula then, not everyone stuck around to watch democracy die in real time.

Not up close, anyway.

Some people had enough cash to run but not enough to make staying worthwhile. With their tails between their legs and their life savings in hand, they left before the capitalist rot could set in fully; chose willful blindness and headed for countries where corporations rule from the shadows rather than broad daylight.

Most people, however, didn’t leave. People like your grandparents, who hadn’t looked up long enough to notice things going to hell in a hurry. And if they did — well, maybe they saw things for what they were: shitty, same as anywhere else.

Five decades later, that fact hasn’t changed much.

Regardless of why a person opts to stay in the New Republic, their options for survival are effectively limited to two. Simply put, a person can sell their soul to the very corporations that strangled the state, or they can starve.

Nobody ever chooses the latter.

You can safely assume everything you need to know about a person based on where their next steps take them.

For example, those who crave both chic, penthouse apartments and blood-soaked streets are most likely to fall in line with WraithCo.. The name suggests that it’s a criminal enterprise run by fucking ghouls because that’s essentially what it is. More than that, it’s the arms manufacturer monopoly that out-manned and out-gunned the national military without breaking a sweat.

The high-powered, highly-paid WraithCo. executives find joy in three things and three things only: designer suits; missiles that explode into clouds of fiberglass upon impact; and testing said missiles out on non-violent nomad encampments outside city limits.

Fucking ghouls.

Despite being the most openly violent of the major players, you find WraithCo. to be the most boring. They lack nuance, don’t bother with a false front or a positive PR spin — it’s all a little too predictable. Thanotech, on the other hand, is subtle; the perfect cover for those who like to convince themselves they’re doing more good than harm.

In furtherance of that delusion, Thanotech replaced all public hospitals with state-of-the-art, for-profit rejuvenation centers. Worse, their lobbyists ensured that medical licensure was limited to employees of those centers, outlawing the provision and receipt of medical care outside of authorized Thanotech facilities.

In short, those who can’t afford Thanotech’s astronomical rates — specifically, poor fucks like you — are left to fend for themselves in back alley clinics; to pray that they don’t wind up worse-off than they started, that the police don’t sniff them out, and that their new modifications aren’t just garbage-tier knock-offs.

Of course, some people give more of a shit about these designer mods than the patients who may or may not wind up with them. In that case, the last of the three titans has them covered.

It’s no fucking surprise that the Ulsan Corporation is the crown-jewel of the New Republic — it’s primarily responsible for killing the old one. As the world’s premier technology and cybernetics conglomerate, Ulsan is also primarily responsible for the research, development, and distribution of cybernetic enhancements.

Like the one your body is currently acclimating to.

No such thing as ethical consumption under capitalism, right?

Ulsan may be less obvious with its bastardry than its counterparts, but as far as you can tell, it’s not good guy behavior to eat an established state and shit it back out. Even if you can’t tie any specific, ongoing atrocities back to them, you have no qualms about adding the desperate state of the union to their indictment.

You can blame them for the desperate measures they’ve necessitated, although you won’t give them an ounce of credit for the spark of resistance they so recklessly lit.

Despite it all, there are still people out there who refuse to accept things for what they are. They find an alternative to the comply or die ultimatum — run along the razor’s edge, taking what they can get, whenever they can get it.

Like Changbin, one of Seoul’s best-connected fixers.

Like you, a gun for hire.

Like Jisung, sitting in your passenger seat as you drive across town, who’s just happy to be included.

Generally speaking, piss and vinegar don’t mix well with club security.

If you were anyone else, rolling up to The Crypt like you own the place would be ill-advised. More than that, it would be asking to get your teeth kicked in faster than you could say, “I’m on the list.”

Thankfully, as it often does, your reputation precedes you. Nobody in the block-long line bats an eye when you cut right to the front, a fact that has Jisung smirking in a way that might otherwise get him killed. Still, the bouncer shoots you a look that says you’re more trouble than you’re worth; and you agree.

Before your friend can change the muscle’s mind, you grab Jisung by the wrist and tug him through the front entrance. You don’t let go when the door shuts behind you, although it’s more for convenience than concern for his safety. He has a tendency to wander, and you don’t have the patience.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he muses as you drag him towards the main bar, head turning to look in every direction except the one you’re moving in.

You don’t slow down.

Winding your way through the drunks at the counter, you inch closer to the large booths along the far wall. Inside, draped nonchalantly over the plush benches, sit the big guns — mercenaries with far more sway than you, far fatter wallets. They’re living the high life you’ve always dreamed of, and they don’t even notice you staring as you pass.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung waves overhead to one of them, reminding you without trying that he — unlike you — has other friends.“S.Coups, where have the fuck have you been, man?”

You still don’t slow down.

Not when you reach the stairwell at the far side of the main floor. Not when you shuffle down the steps to the employees only section. Not even when the security camera overhead silently demands that you do.

There’s only one locked door amongst the few; you fly to it like a homing pigeon and beat against the metal with your free hand. It isn’t until the burning ache sets in that you realize you chose your right.

“Goddamn it.” You growl down at it, as if your hand will apologize for hurting. Turning your vitriol towards the door, you kick it hard, steel-toed boot forcing out a thud. “Changbin, open this shit up!”

Jisung glares as he scolds you, “Manners, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but his expectant expression doesn’t budge.

“Fucking — fine, okay? Fine.” Hands thrown up in defeat, you take a deep breath. Your next words come out saccharine, accompanied by fluttering lashes that can’t even be seen. “Changbin, darling, could you please open this shit up?”

The two of you wait in dead silence for several seconds before Jisung’s hands fly up to your hair, unprompted. Your surprised yelp doesn’t faze him. He grabs the bobby-pin from where you’ve stashed it under your ponytail, drops to his knees, and starts to work.

You snort, “Well, damn. Look at you!”

Truly, you’re impressed. Jisung normally leaves the dirty work to you, yet here he is — breaking and entering.

They grow up so fast.

He tries not to look proud of himself, but his cheeks blush a shade of sakura and rat him right out. Though you’re sure he’d love to, he can’t even lift a hand to wave you off before the lock clicks. With a quick twist of the knob, he pushes the door open.

Changbin’s office looks close to normal, with a few notable exceptions. For starters, he’s not in it. The man you’re dealing with never sees the light of day if he can help it.

Jisung pipes up first: “Okay, what the fuck?”

The office chair Changbin normally occupies is spun to the side, as if his ass left it in a hurry. Even odder than that is the small, green light which indicates that he didn’t shut off his computer before leaving it unattended. It’s not a decision someone like Changbin — neurotic and paranoid to a borderline clinical degree — makes on his own.

That, you know outright, is a problem.

Cautiously, you slip past Jisung and walk on eggshells towards Changbin’s desk. You know it’s stupid, that no one would bother rigging the floor tiles to blow under the weight of your boots, but you can’t ignore the way your gut twists with every step. That dread only gets worse, the closer you get.

To the right of his primary screen, there’s a half-eaten vending-machine burrito that’s so covered with ants, you almost mistake them for pepper flakes. That sight makes bile rise in your throat, in and of itself, but it’s the untouched cup of coffee that sends a tingle of panic down your spine. Around the base of the glass, hardly visible on the sheet of paper underneath, is a water ring.

That coffee — at one point, however long ago — was iced.

Changbin would kill you for it if he were here, but he isn’t, so you drop down into his chair. You pause as soon as your ass settles onto the leather, still not convinced that one wrong move won’t set off some sort of trap. The breath you’ve been holding leaks out slowly when your actions go without consequences.

A quick glance up at Jisung confirms that he looks exactly as spooked as you feel. You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows hard.

He knows the answer before he asks, but that doesn’t stop him. It comes out scratchy, riddled with hesitation that says he doesn’t really want to hear the response. “He hasn’t been here in days, has he?”

You shake your head, just barely, then turn to the desk. Bottom lip pinched between worried teeth, you scan the surface for anything you missed on your first pass.

Give me a hint, you motherfucker. All I need is a breadcrumb.

It’s the absence of something that grabs your attention. Eyes narrowing, you lean forward in your seat to get as close as possible to his monitors.

“Does that…?” You start to ask but your voice trails off before you finish; thoughts moving too quickly to inventory before the next one arrives.

Though black, the screens in front of you aren’t lifeless. If anything, they’re still backlit, glitching subtly in a way they shouldn’t — not if the system had been locked, powered off, or otherwise put to sleep. You don’t have to be a netrunner to know that someone is running an opp, fucking up the computer’s processing and leaving it brain dead.

It’s so small that you almost miss the minimized window at the bottom left-hand corner of his secondary monitor, screen otherwise barren. Hesitantly, you reach out your hand and press a trembling finger to it.

Jisung is hovering so closely over your shoulder that you can practically taste that burrito on his breath. You elbow him once in the chest, hard.

He coughs, pointing to the screen as he sputters, “What the hell are those?”

“Numbers, Jisung.” You deadpan. “They’re called numbers.”

Ignoring the way he grumbles in response, you grab your mobile from your pocket. It springs to life at your sudden touch and broadcasts a holographic home screen in the air just centimeters above the glass. Just as fast, it tracks the movement of your eyes flicking through the list of applications. With the faintest shudder, the GPS navigation consumes the screen.

You repeat what you hope are coordinates:

35.2029, 128.6001.

As the map loads, you and Jisung exchange glances that are underscored by tense swallows. He knows it, and so do you:

No matter where that pin ends up dropping, you have no choice but to go.

It takes three hours to drive from Seoul to Changwon. Although it’s not a route you’ve taken in years, or one you ever expected to take again, you still know it like the back of your hand. You can still navigate every turn — every crater and curve — with your eyes closed, even now.

Despite that fact, your decision to race to the southeast this time has nothing to do with sentimentality for the hometown you left five years ago.

This is just for Changbin, you repeat like a mantra, pressing harder on the accelerator.

With every stoplight and thought you race through, the background grows blurrier but the big picture gets clearer. Changbin himself has nothing to do with it; and you’re not as selfless as your inner monologue keeps claiming. You correct yourself:

This is for me and my empty bank account.

Really — who could blame you?

You need steady contracts in order to eat. Without Changbin, those get fewer and farther between. It’s the transitive property, or whatever; basic math. You might starve without him, and that is the one thing in this life that you’re unwilling to do.

In the passenger seat, Jisung stirs. When he speaks, his voice isn’t weighted down with exhaustion in the way it usually is, halfway through a car trip. For some reason, it makes your stomach turn to consider that — for what is probably the first time ever — he isn’t sleeping through a drive.

“He left in a hurry,” he quietly notes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at him and confirm the presence of that worried crease between his eyebrows. It’s not accompanied by the usual, furiously-bouncing knee. That makes your stomach turn, too. Clearly, he’s vaulted over mere anxiety and landed somewhere close to shutting down.

You nod. “He did.”

It spooks him when you take your right hand off the steering wheel and give his elbow a brief squeeze. You’re not the affectionate type; you both know this. It always makes your rare touches more ominous than comforting.

“Do you think he was running to something, or running away from something?”

Leave it to Jisung to say the quiet part out loud.

Normally, you have an answer for his constant questions; and if you don’t, you resort to lying or guessing. This time, however, you don’t bother with either of those tactics because it doesn’t matter. Whatever the correct answer is, it’ll still feel wrong because Changbin doesn’t run.

Period.

Full stop.

So, the conclusion your brain keeps trying to come to is that he didn’t — he wouldn’t — if it came down to choice. The only reason Changbin would’ve disappeared like this, suddenly and wordlessly, is if he was taken.

Pulse hammering loudly in your ears, you don’t hear Jisung announce that your destination is only a few hundred meters down the road. Without his emphatic pointing out the windshield ahead, you simply would’ve continued racing forward, taking the speed limit as a suggestion to be ignored. Thankfully, your lead foot switches to the brake with enough time to make your turn. Tires hit dirt; your car fishtails as it transitions from the road to the worn-out path to your right.

“The fuck is this place?” You mutter, more to yourself than to Jisung.

It’s obsolete, you know that much.

Something akin to an industrial park, but one that clearly hasn’t been used since before the War. There are electrical towers dotting a perimeter around the space, none of which are operational; the grid system was replaced by wind power, then by solar energy no fewer than fifty years ago. The driveway below is so cracked that patches of weeds have overtaken most of what remained of the pavement. All the rest is weathered, reduced to broken bits of cement and dirt.

Your car slows to a stop halfway down the parkway, surrounded on both sides by empty storage units with doors either broken or missing entirely. Hair raising on the back of your neck, you park but don’t kill the engine. Slowly, you rest your right hand over top of the holster strapped to your thigh and open your car door with your left.

The sun set a few hours into your drive. Its absence hasn’t done a damn thing to break the thick heat waiting for you outside. Humid air settles on your skin and leaves a sheen of sweat behind like a handprint, sticky.

“These were the coordinates,” Jisung affirms with a sigh. He stays seated inside the vehicle, leaving you to wonder why. He’s either too panicked to move, or correct in assuming you’d tell him to sit his unarmed ass back down before you made him.

You don’t respond.

Instead, your eyes continue to scan the property for signs of — well, anything. Movement, a heat signature, whatever might register on your optical mods. There’s nothing, save for the stray tumbleweed somersaulting across the empty lot. You narrow your eyes to zoom in, heart pounding with anticipation.

You almost scream when you see it, but you swallow the urge. Fear won’t do you any good, but the semi-automatic strapped to your thigh might. It’s in your palm before you can blink, cocked and aimed at the figure ahead. At the bottom of your field of vision, your ammo count glows in translucent, block letters.

So, the ballistic co-processor is worth the pain.

Their posture is casual, legs dangling from the metal catwalk they sit on. Their elbows rest against the railing in front of them, as if they’re leaning on a counter in a bar and not spying on you from a scaffold four meters overhead. The way they’re watching in silence is unsettling enough; the wooden tal obscuring their face is fucking nightmare fuel, if you’ve ever seen it.

Head tilted curiously to the side, the stranger stares down at you through small eye holes, wooden mouth frozen in a hand-carved smile. Whoever they are, they’re immersed in the bit. They exaggerate every slow movement for their audience of two.

Good for them, you scoff to yourself.

Gloved hands come up to pantomime “don’t shoot” mere seconds before they grab hold of the railing in front of them. Just as quickly, they swing themselves underneath with a kick of their legs until they’re falling, falling, falling towards the ground below. They land easily on their feet without so much as a grunt. All the while, dust swirls in pirouettes around their ankles, spot-lit by your car’s headlamps.

“What — what the fuck?” Jisung squeaks.

You don’t answer, but that doesn’t stop him from repeating his question, over and over.

Hands still raised, the stranger slowly closes the distance between you. Their fingers wiggle slightly in some demented version of a wave; they’re taunting you. The unhealed part of you wants to shoot those fingers off, one by one.

You’ve never been fond of clowns.

“If you like having kneecaps without bullets in them, I suggest you stay still, chingu,” you scoff, now more annoyed than alarmed.

To your surprise, they listen. Their feet still, side by side; and their hands stay where you can see them. That is, until they curl all of their fingers into their palm, except for their right index finger. With it, they point silently over your shoulder.

As soon as you can whip your neck around, a gloved fist collides with your temple. The last thing you see before your vision goes black is a second, wooden smile looming over you.

A hushed tone manages to nudge you awake.

“You really can’t keep doing this. Seriously, your people skills are awful.”

The whole world’s blurry, and you can’t make out the source of the sound, but you’re coherent enough to know it when a second voice chimes in. It’s much less gentle than the first, higher in pitch and twice as exasperated. It snaps, “She was armed.”

“I had it under control,” the first voice huffs.

The two seem to be too lost in their argument to notice your eyelids fluttering or your fingers twitching. Your wrists aren’t bound, you realize, but that fact doesn’t help you much in your current state. Back resting heavily against the thin nylon cloth of a cot, it’d take more energy than you have to spare in order to get to your feet. Worse, your eyes don’t seem interested in cooperating.

They should be by now.

They’re open, you’re conscious, and —

Motherfucker.

The more awake you become, the more the ache in your temple reverberates down your jaw. You know without looking that the right side of your face is bruised to hell and back. Scraped up, too, if you had to guess; you hit the gravel like a bag of bricks.

They must’ve done it on purpose, hitting you exactly where they needed to in order to scramble your visual input. The most you get is shapes, black and white static. It wasn’t the hardest knock you’d ever taken to the head — not by a long shot — but it was perfectly targeted and timed.

Clearly, they’re no amateurs.

One such shadow kneels down next to you. Gentle fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear while their other hand tilts your drooping head to the side.

They tut, “Just look at what you did to her face.”

“From what I’ve heard, she’s been through worse,” the second voice scoffs. You watch the shadow’s shoulders as they shrug, wishing you could focus on their face well enough to bash it in.

The retort comes quickly, but it doesn’t come in Korean.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t do better.”

The hands that gently cradle your face pull away, leaving you cold. The action itself isn’t as jarring as the sudden use of English, though — especially the accent it’s spoken with. You may not be fluent, but you can sense what’s missing: the consonant on the end of that last word.

You sense something else, too, but you’re still too disoriented to follow that thought from start to finish. It’s on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.

Who — ?

The bastard that broke your brain must notice your face scrunching in confusion because their next words seem to be aimed at you. Clipped and unapologetic, they mutter, “Should be fine within the hour. Already been out for —”

They suck in a breath through their teeth. You can’t tell if they’re stalling in order to toy with you, or if they’re genuinely doing the math.

“— Seven hours or so, now.”

Fuck!

One of the two snorts out a laugh; it’s the only reason you piece it together that you spoke out loud. Emboldened by the confirmed functionality of your voice, you speak again without thinking it through first.

You don’t care where you are or who you’re with. You only have one question:

“Is Changbin still alive? Because if he is, I’ll kill him myself.”

The man kneeling next to your cot chuckles, soft and low, but he doesn’t acknowledge your question beyond that. Instead, he addresses his hamfisted friend. “Can you please get her some water?”

“Am I a waiter now, Yongbok-ah?” The other snips, though his tone is devoid of any real heat. If his face wasn’t blurred out of existence, you’d likely find a sneer on it. “Should I roll some gimbap for her, too?”

“Actually, you should,” counters this Yongbok. His response is buried so deeply under his breath that his back talk may as well be a secret for your ears only. “Punched her clean into the next weekday — so, yeah. It’s the least you could do.”

It grows silent enough that you can hear every incredulous footstep as the waiter storms off.

The remainder says, “Sorry about him,” and for whatever little it’s worth, he sounds like he means it. You say nothing, simply marinating in your resentment.

Meanwhile, he shifts from his knees in order to sit fully on the ground next to your cot. Elbows extended, he leans back onto his palms and sighs gently, “Minho’s not as bad as the first impressions he makes.”

You scoff so forcefully that you feel it in your sinuses. “This is the second. His first is the reason I can’t see who’s holding me hostage.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The shape beside you sits up suddenly. He sputters, “You’re not a hostage, and this isn’t a kidnapping —”

“Then what the fuck is it?” You snap, “Huh, Yongbok?”

Blindly, you throw out a half-balled fist in a half-baked attempt to even the score. It misses by a mile, nearly knocking you off balance in the process. Your wrist is encircled by the same warm fingers you felt before, doubling over but exerting no force.

“We were scouting you. You know, like, soccer?” He chuckles sheepishly. “Changbin mentioned that you were a free agent, so to speak, and we thought you might wanna join the team.”

What the fuck?

“And — it wasn’t supposed to wind up like this.” His shadow’s hands gesture vaguely at the room you can’t see. “I did try to warn you. You just didn’t turn around in time.”

There are too many questions swirling around in your skull to choose from. One of them must break free and nudge your retinal chip back into place because something turns the lights back on. Glitching wildly, your vision flickers from low contrast to high definition. It doesn’t hurt, but the surprised gasp you choke out could easily be interpreted that way.

The man next to you is back on his knees in a second, both hands finding your shoulders to either comfort you or immobilize you — and you aren’t sure which. Against your better judgment, you ignore the reflex that tells you to fight or flee. Instead, you reach out and touch his cheekbone to confirm that the faint spots you see are freckles and not lingering sensory damage on your part.

He doesn’t even blink, much less say a word. There’s no jerk to get away, and there’s not a single question asked about what the fuck you’re doing — just tolerance. Far more than you’d be extending if the roles were reversed.

Freckles.

You aren’t embarrassed, but you drop your hand quickly and scowl at him until he does the same. Once again, he raises them as he leans back. Notably, he doesn’t wiggle his fingers like the first time you crossed paths.

That reminds me —

Abruptly, you draw your arm back to deck him in earnest.

Just like the last time, he catches you before you can strike him; however, instead of capturing your wrist, it’s the entirety of your fist. His palm absorbs the shock, fingers closing around your hand. It’s the gentlest trap you’ve ever been ensnared in, which you hate.

Smart of you to prevent another attempt.

“Can I finish explaining myself?” He asks, voice soft.

Bright doe eyes scan over your face cautiously as he contemplates letting your hand go. It’s disarming, sure, but you’d rather die than admit it.

You give him absolutely nothing to work with, so he adds, “You can hit me when I’m done, if you still want to.”

All you give him in return is a glare, which he somehow correctly interprets as permission to keep going. The grip on your fist loosens, although it wasn’t constricting to begin with. Like nothing happened, you pull it away and cross your arms.

As if nonchalance has ever been your strong suit.

He stares at you, deep in thought, for longer than you know what to do with. Eyes sweeping over your features like he’ll be quizzed later, taking in every detail. It’s unsettling — what about you is even worth gawking at?

When he frowns, that spark of light in his eyes stays put. “You don’t remember me.”

It’s not a question because he isn’t asking; he’s telling. And you have no goddamn clue what he means, no matter how loudly the voice in your head screams that you should. The familiarity buzzing through your brain can’t place him — not the button of his nose, not even those fucking freckles.

“I don’t know anyone named Yongbok,” you counter, frustration evident.

You wouldn’t be this harsh if you know how not to be. Part of you feels guilty when you see the hurt flicker across his face, but both emotions — his and yours — are gone as quickly as they appear. Consequently, the walls stay up, refusing to give. Despite you, the corner of his mouth hitches up in a lopsided version of a smile.

That’s familiar, too.

“Never really went by it,” he chuckles. As he does, he tilts his head quizzically.

Another bell rings, yet you can’t name the note.

Shyly, he takes his half-smile with him and looks anywhere else. The anticipation is spinning cartwheels in your stomach, tingling down the back of your neck, and you’re seconds away from trying to smack the trapped words right out of him.

Who are you to me?

After a deep breath in and out, he glances back at you from the corner of his eye. His hesitation does nothing to prepare you for his response, which isn’t his name at all. It’s yours — a nickname, more specifically. One no one has used in damn near a decade.

“Been a while, Scraps. Hasn’t it?”

Felix has never seen anyone freeze the way you do when the realization finally hits. For a minute, he worries that Minho did more damage to your poor brain than either of them initially diagnosed; it wouldn’t be the first time. Minho’s never been known to be careful or tactful.

Your silence — and your total lack of physical response — doesn’t last, though. He nudges your kneecap with his knuckles just to make sure you can feel it. You blink rapidly, as if you’re just now remembering how.

He starts to ask, “Are you ok—?”, but your fist flies out, pops him right in the jaw, and he chokes on the rest of that question. Hands flying up to cover his face, he collapses back onto the floor with a groan. When the initial shock wears off, it dissolves into laughter that shakes his shoulders.

Honestly, what did he expect?

In a flash, you shove yourself off your cot. You’re on top of him before he can blink, pinning him down. You grip his shirt in one fist and raise the other. He braces himself for impact but doesn’t flinch, too taken aback by the fury you’re capable of communicating without a single word.

“You’re fucking with me,” you spit, breaking the silence.

Your glare is borderline feral — burning — and that makes him laugh even harder.

“You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

To both of your surprise, you don’t hit him again; you don’t even try. You freeze, but unlike the last time, your eyes are shaking. Your raised arm is, too, like it’s taking all you have to keep whatever you’re feeling to yourself.

Classic Scraps.

You mutter, “You’re dead,” and it’s not a threat.

Not even close, really. It’s a declaration, one accompanied by an expression that’s as close to vulnerable as he’s ever seen from you. All at once, you lower your arm; the rest of you slumps, too. Whispering, you repeat, “You’re dead.”

Something about your tone hurts worse than the burgeoning bruise near his mouth. It aches, even more so when he frowns. You deserve an explanation — an apology, too — but Felix doesn’t know where the fuck to start.

Maybe he should cash that reality check first.

“Is that what people are saying?” He asks.

He’s not sure what about that trips him up. It makes perfect sense that this is the conclusion people wound up jumping to. After all, he left without a word and never came back — didn’t leave a trace, either.

Felix wasn’t the first teenager to slip through the cracks, so he’d figured that his would be another run-of-the-mill disappearance. Sure, people tend to notice when kids go missing; but that doesn’t stop the world from turning. Sooner or later, people stop looking, either too busy or too hopeless to keep holding a torch.

Eventually, they forget.

At least, that was the reality Felix had subscribed to — that, after a while, he’d slipped through the cracks of collective consciousness. It was easier to tell himself that he wasn’t missed. His guilt couldn’t keep him up at night if nobody remembered that he existed in the first place; especially when a decade slipped past in his absence.

But you did remember.

You missed him.

You lift your knee so that you’re no longer straddling him and drop onto your back at his side.

It’s funny, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling. The two of you spent years just like this, albeit on the hood of some junkyard sedan. Two pairs of wide eyes were always fixed on constellations, dreaming of something bigger than both of you. Of some future where you weren’t still stuck in the gutter.

“There was no trace of you anywhere.” You speak so softly that Felix is left to wonder whether you’re talking to him or yourself. “No records that you fled, no word from you, no hits on CCTV — nothing. The cops said there’d be a trail if…”

Your voice fades out before you can finish that thought, so Felix picks up where you left off: “If I was alive to leave one.”

There’s a long pause before you speak again.

“This is where you disappeared to?”

He feels a shift beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way you’ve tilted your head to gaze at him. By the time he does the same, the moment is gone, and you’re taking in the room around you.

It’s not much, but it’s all he has: A small room in a decommissioned factory, smelling faintly of sawdust despite not containing any. The cot you just sprang from is where he’s spent most nights since he was fifteen.

The floor underneath it — underneath you — is more dirt than concrete now, no matter how many times he’s scrubbed it; and the few iron shelves that hang along each wall are just as gross. So are the knickknacks he’s set on them, but he doesn’t mind.

The site itself is long forgotten. It’d be an eyesore if anyone ever looked, but no one bothers.

Even satellites have stopped paying it any attention, leaving it to fade into dirt and obscurity, not even a shadow of what it used to be. Once plush and inviting, the surrounding forest was leveled in a firefight that ended with ninety-percent of the nearby buildings getting blown to shit.

The New Republic could’ve easily organized a relief team to dig through the shattered city. At any point in the last fifty years, they could’ve rebuilt what burned in that failed uprising, but they didn’t; and Felix knows they never will because that rubble has a function. Apart from burying one of the country’s most impoverished districts, it serves as a cautionary tale. A threat left behind to the masses: this is what happens when people pose risk to profits.

Still, flowers can grow within cracks in concrete. After all, his life with you started just a few kilometers away.

“Are we still in Changwon, or did you and that asshole drag me out of the province?”

That edge of yours is ever present, and Felix is glad. It’s one of the million things he’s missed about you; a feature on the long list of reasons he wishes he could’ve called — messaged, sent a smoke signal, anything — to keep you around in whatever capacity he could.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Felix feels the weight of a lost decade sitting heavy on his chest, so he does what he always does: he chooses light. Smiling brightly, he asks, “D’you remember that junkyard we used to run away to after curfew?”

You roll your eyes. You don’t have to say it out loud; he knows you do. The two of you spent more time there than you did in your own homes, lining glass bottles along the wooden fence posts and firing stones at them with a homemade slingshot.

“We’re a few kilometers up the road, actually.”

At this, you sit up so that no part of your body stays pressed against his. Dead silence settles in the space between you like a brick wall. You bristle, then you snap, “All that time you were dead, you were still within spitting distance?”

Felix opens his mouth to respond, but your rigid posture makes it clear that you have no desire to listen. He closes it again without saying a word. It’s what he deserves, isn’t it?

“Traded in your family, your home, your — Me.” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice breaks. It’s too late. “And for what, Felix? To haunt some abandoned building like a ghost?”

You clench your fists, like a grip tight enough might keep you together. That part of you hasn’t changed either, it seems. Neither has the extremely unsettling way you get quieter, the more upset you are. Just like that, he’s reminded of what you used to say: the more it hurts, the less it shows.

“I couldn’t pick you out of a fucking lineup despite all of that history,” you whisper, deflated. “And you were here the whole time.”

Talking won’t do him much good, so Felix opts to show you. Palms pressed to the ground, he pushes himself to his feet, and he doesn’t bother dusting off the back of his pants once he stands. It won’t make a difference, anyway, when the whole damn city is covered in it.

Once he steadies himself, he extends his hand to you, half-expecting you to slap it away. You don’t budge. You never do, he recalls fondly.

“One chance?” His eyes are pleading, even though you don’t look up to meet them. “It’s hard to explain, but it’ll make more sense if you see it.”

Without looking, you lift your arm and slap your hand into his. A small concession, but it’s enough to make his smile reappear. He’s practically beaming when he hauls you to your feet, and you grip his forearms to keep steady.

“Fine,” you concede with a huff.

Then, you round on him with one pointed finger, jabbing him in the center of his chest with force. It’ll bruise, but he supposes that’s the whole point.

“This better be worth all the fucking theatrics, or I swear to god —”

“You’ll make me swallow my own teeth?” He rolls his eyes with a low chuckle and tugs you along after him on his way to the door. “Yeah, yeah, yeah — Heard that threat a thousand times, Scraps, and you’ve never once made good on it.”

Just to emphasize his point, he looks over his shoulder at you and grins with all thirty-two of them.

All things considered, you take everything in stride. You don’t react much at all when you discover that the abandoned building is anything but; refuse to bat an eye when the two people you woke up to are revealed to be a tiny fraction of the whole.

You even keep your hand in his as he ushers you from room to room — through the clinic, the makeshift and woefully under-equipped armory, the Hub — and introduces you to whoever you come across. He might even go so far as to call you friendly, which is a first. Receiving any kind of warmth from you typically requires high-level security clearance.

Or, at least, it used to. Felix has to remind himself more than once that, small echoes aside, there are parts of you he doesn’t know anymore. This could very well be one of them.

Halfway through the tour, you finally offer up more than a lukewarm greeting and your name. It’s just the two of you now; you don’t have to make yourself palatable anymore. Blunt as ever, you throw out, “This is a cult, right? You ran away from home to join a cult?”

There she is, he thinks.

Felix pulls a face in disapproval, which you either don’t catch or don’t care about. Instead, you turn your head in the opposite direction and let your gaze sweep over the loading dock you currently stand upon.

It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a sitting room, filled with the only comfortable furniture they could get their hands on — half-busted arm chairs, ratty old couches, tables held together with duct tape and a prayer. You drop suddenly onto one such couch, jerking him back until his ass winds up next to yours on a tattered cushion.

Felix can’t tell if you pulled him down on purpose, or if you simply forgot that you were holding onto him. Either way, he doesn’t mind, but part of him hopes it was the former.

“It’s a collective,” he corrects you, lips flattening into a firm, straight line.

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. If it’s a sex cult, just say so.”

He tries not to laugh — really, he does — because the last thing you need is an enabler, but your deadpan delivery has always hit him where he’s weakest. He tries again while swallowing a chuckle: “It’s the Black Screen, home to the most talented and ungovernable motherfuckers on the peninsula.”

You don’t look impressed. Felix doesn’t take it to heart.

“We’ve got a reconnaissance team, netrunners —”

As if he’s doing a roll call, he points to nearby stragglers with every position he names.

“— corporate defectors, combat vets, medics, ex-fixers —”

He nudges you with his elbow, wiggles his eyebrows and murmurs, “— Edge runners —”

If that look in your eye is any indication, you still hate it when he does that.

“And a couple of wayward drunks who — well…” Felix pauses for a moment to think. It doesn’t help, so he shrugs, snickering, “I dunno how they got here, and they don’t contribute much, but they’re fun to have around!”

The corner of your mouth twitches, ever so slightly. He grins down at you, as if to say gotcha.

“So, it is a sex cult,” you repeat flatly after a beat.

Felix can’t beat your bit, so he may as well join you in it. Bested, he sighs, “Yeah, pretty much.”

You hum in acceptance of his defeat, clearly amused by how easily he still gives in to you.

With pursed lips, you continue to take in your surroundings. Your brow furrows while you process the information you’ve been bombarded with so far, but you don’t offer up any further questions or snide comments. Thankfully, the silence that falls over you both feels a lot less like lead than the previous one.

Felix’s gaze stays fixed on you, though you’re too busy looking elsewhere to notice. Maybe you couldn’t recognize him, but shit — he’d know you anywhere, anytime. You’ve gotten older, of course, finally grew into those features of yours. Still, there are hints of the kid he used to know hidden all over your face.

Original traits aside, the new additions — the tattoos, for starters — all read like you. In fact, Felix is fairly confident that he’d know who they belonged to, even if the other context was removed. After all, the cyberware installed into your hand can’t undermine the familiarity of it resting against his palm.

And it sure as shit still hits like it used to.

He considers it a blessing, really, that so much of you survived the years that flew by without him. That the scrawny girl next door — ready and willing to fight God over a single slight — still rolls her eyes the same way, still speaks in that satoori his non-native tongue could never mimic.

“Maybe I’m missing something,” you announce suddenly. The unexpected sound of your voice startles Felix so much that he jumps, knocking his shoulder into yours in the process. You ignore his reaction and continue, “This just looks like someone is collecting people as a hobby. What are you all doing here?”

Oh.

Yeah, that’s a fair question.

“We’re… starting a fire,” Felix muses.

You arch an eyebrow expectantly, although the rest of your face remains impassive. It’s less of a demand for him to continue than it is permission for him not to stop.

“And we’re going to burn it all down.” He hits you with a devilish grin, drops his voice low in a way that makes you shiver involuntarily. “The corpo-rats, the lies they sell — all of it.”

“Sounds like anarchy,” you say, tilting your head to the side. There’s a beat, then you grin to match his. “Sign me up.”

Felix stands at the far side of the dining area with his arms crossed and his head leaning back against the cinder blocks behind him. His legs are crossed at the ankles, knees aching from the sheer amount of time he’s been holding the wall up.

As much as his body wants to sit, the rest of him is out of options. The only table that isn’t full is the one you’re occupying with Changbin and Jisung. After the day you’ve had, you deserve time alone with something familiar. He recognizes that he isn’t that.

Not anymore — and not yet, either.

He finds it hard to stray too far, though. You’ve always been able to fend for yourself — that black-and-blue jaw of his is proof enough — but it’s a role he can’t help falling into, looking out for you. Muscle memory.

Although Felix can’t quite make out anything that the three of you are saying, it’s clear as a damn bell when you slam your palms down on the table. Just as obvious is the split second in which your anger gives way — when the pain in your right hand finally registers in your brain.

“That one going to be a problem?”

Hyunjin, as usual, seems to appear out of thin air. He sidles up to Felix and takes up the spot next to him along the wall. All it takes is one quick glance to confirm it — he’s exhausted. Dark half-moons sit in the wells beneath his eyes like ink, silently informing Felix of yet another all-nighter; still keeping secrets as to where he goes at night when everyone else is sleeping.

But Hyunjin isn’t a mystery Felix will ever be able to solve, so he looks back in your direction and asks, “Who, Scraps?” Then, with a shake of his head, he sighs, “No. She’s a cherry bomb, but she’s reliable. Far more than most, actually.”

It’s odd, Felix thinks, that Hyunjin didn’t already know the answer to that question. As the reconnaissance leader of the Black Screen, there isn’t much Hyunjin isn’t aware of. Felix doesn’t comment on that piece, however. Instead, he does his best to interpret your reaction.

“If I had to guess, Changbin just told her about the fake kidnapping.”

And Hyunjin doesn’t do a damn thing to conceal his smirk. That was his plan, after all.

Two weeks ago, Seo Changbin stumbled upon a lead by accident. While Felix isn’t privy to the details of what Changbin dug up, he knows it must’ve been significant. That’s the only explanation Felix can come up with as to how Changbin wound up at the rendezvous point. Nobody — not the corporate ghouls, their war dogs, or any other sorry soul — finds the Black Screen unless they want to be found.

Felix is privy to what happened next because it’s the only reason he wound up involved in this at all:

Whatever intel Changbin had was groundbreaking enough to score an invitation to the revolution, but he had more to offer the higher-ups than that. He dropped the name of someone who could be an asset, under the right circumstances. Someone who wouldn’t follow a breadcrumb trail for free but would tear the peninsula apart to find whoever owed them.

For what it’s worth, Felix disagreed with that characterization the second he heard it. Despite the mask you like to wear, you’re incapable of being self-centered. You’ve never been profit-driven, heartless, or attachment-avoidant. Just hellbent on survival for you and the people you feel responsible for, even as a kid.

The only reason Felix hasn’t asked you about your motive outright is because he knows you’d lie. The truth is simple: Unless it was for someone you care deeply about, you wouldn’t waste gasoline on speeding back to a place you hate.

Hyunjin clears his throat, pulling Felix out of the daze he’d fallen into. Given the pointed look on his face, Hyunjin must be repeating himself when he says, “She got you bad, huh?”

Confusion forces Felix’s brow to furrow.

“This?” He takes a wild guess and gestures to the bruise on his jaw before waving dismissively. “Nah, her form is terrible. Truly garbage-tier follow-through. I can teach her, though.”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the wall and moves to exit the dining area. As he passes by, he gives Felix a patronizing pat on his shoulder. “Not what I meant, Yongbokie.”

Felix frowns, unsure how to take what he’s being given.

The fuck?

“Not even close,” Hyunjin calls over his shoulder.

He shoots Felix a wink, and then he’s gone, disappearing out the door the same way he entered it — like a goddamn apparition.

“Wow. Recruited? That’s — wow.”

Jisung is doing a terrible job of pretending he isn’t blushing. He clears his throat to keep his voice even, but it’s useless. He’s not fooling anyone.

“I didn’t realize we were so sought after.”

“You’re not,” Changbin responds bluntly. He gestures across the table to you but maintains his eyes on Jisung. “She is. You just happened to be present, and they couldn’t leave a witness behind.”

Jisung doesn’t bother to hide the way his face falls. When he opens his mouth to whine, you raise your hand and silently demand that he spare you the earache. It seems to work; he slumps dejectedly and leans with his elbows against the tabletop. You proceed to ignore him.

Affect flat, you stare straight ahead at the source of all your fucking problems. The half of you that wants to hug Changbin for being alive and well is significantly quieter than the half of you that wants to grab him by the nape of his neck and shove his face into his yukgaejang.

Bastard.

“I no longer give a shit how I ended up here,” you state coolly. Liar. “That ship has sailed, and to keep it a buck with you, Binnie —”

He cringes at the nickname, which is exactly the reaction you sought.

“— I’m not interested in stroking your ego for getting one over on me. It won’t happen again. What I’m still waiting on —”

The only reason you leave that clause hanging in mid-air is to see the anticipation stir in his eyes. From where you’re sitting, it’s what he deserves: a little bit of unnecessary suspense. Really, it’s a form of reparations for the giant fucking inconvenience he’s been lately. His balance is way past due.

Jisung, perpetually along for the ride, shovels shrimp chips into his mouth while his eyes dart back and forth between your face and Changbin’s.

You shoot Changbin a sly smile and grab his beer, tilting the can his way in lieu of a bow. His eyes narrow, visibly annoyed with your stalling, but he doesn’t audibly complain when you down the rest of his drink. Resigned, he accepts the empty can that you hand it back to him

At long last, you clear your throat.

“— is an explanation for why you’re here,” you finally sigh.

Changbin rolls his eyes so hard that they go all-white for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he glares across the table at Jisung.

“You know, my life was way more pleasant before you dragged this one,” he huffs, gesturing to you with his chopsticks, “Into my bar.”

Just for a moment, Changbin sits with his annoyance. He’s entitled to some of it, you’ll concede. You’re not easy to love — you never have been — and you’re occasionally even harder to like. Despite that, he’s been known to look out for you in his own, mostly useless way; even in moments like this, when you’re being a fucking gash simply because you can.

But the fact remains that you dragged your ass across a peninsula for him. He knows damn well that you accept payment in the form of secrets when cash is too hard to come by, so….

“Spill,” you demand.

That tough exterior of his collapses like wet cardboard, just like you knew it would. He glances around the room quickly to confirm that no one is listening in, then he pushes his empty bowl out of the way. With the threat of staining his white t-shirt neutralized, Changbin leans in and asks, “Do either of you know Jung Wooyoung?”

Simultaneously, you and Jisung respond:

“The boxer?”

“The biter.”

Just the same, your friends turn to you with identical looks of bewilderment. You shrug, declining to elaborate because Changbin asked if you knew him, not how or how intimately. Truth be told, you’re not sure that he’s prepared for that answer.

“Anyways,” Changbin segues after clearing his throat. “He’s not up to either of those tasks these days.”

Genuinely curious, Jisung asks with a frown, “Did someone finally kill him?”

Fair question, you think.

With the way Wooyoung runs his mouth, it’s a wonder he’s lived as long as he has — assuming, of course, that he’s still alive. Beyond picking fights with people three times’ his size, his specialties include fixing matches and swiping other fighters’ significant others. If he’s not dead yet, you figure, it’s only a matter of time until the consequences of his antics come calling.

Changbin shakes his head, and the look on his face seems weirdly solemn, like the answer is even worse than that. It’s sobering; it knocks the smirk right off your face.

“He was short on cash, so he signed up for some clinical trial promising a million won for participants.”

Jisung, the resident non-doctor, sits up at this development. “Thanotech?”

You’re in the middle of rolling your eyes when Changbin intercepts, grimacing: “No, that’s the fucked up part. Well, one of the fucked up parts.”

Two pairs of expectant eyes lock on him.

“It’s Ulsan running the trial.”

You don’t pretend to be well-versed in any of the biomedical, cybernetic shit going on around you, but you do know that this particular corporation never leaks details of its research and development — not ever. Doing so would run the risk of a lesser titan swooping in to try and to dupe it.

But that’s not the only revelation that smacks you upside the head.

“Ulsan pays for lab rats now?” You scoff, surprised by your own interest. “Here I was, thinking they used ex-employees for that shit.”

It sounds callous when you say it out loud, but it’s a universal assumption. Part of the New Republic’s mythology, so to speak.

In your lifetime, you’ve never come across a single person who used to work for the Ulsan Corporation — not one. Just the same, you’ve never heard about anyone leaving; no one you’ve ever met has. It’s beyond the realm of possibility that a corporation like that has no turnover, so where do people go when their turn is over?

The dumpster out back, some say. According to others, they wind up in a secret mass grave in the oil fields.

“When he came back, I didn’t know where he’d been or why; I just saw him wandering around like a fucking zombie.” Changbin shivers. “He’s empty now, all sucked dry.”

Jisung looks pointedly at you, shit-eatin grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that what happened when you —?”

An elbow to the center of his chest stops his question before he can finish asking it. He yelps instead, scooting his chair further down the table to get away from you, your sharp edges, and your even sharper glare.

“It freaked me the fuck out, and I didn’t have any answers, so I started poking around for something — anything — that might make sense of it.”

“So, that’s how you got pulled into the web.”

The voice from nowhere makes all three of you jump. You whip around to find yet another stranger.

How many fucking people do I have to meet today?

This particular wild card sits on top of the table directly behind yours with arms gently crossed over her chest; not closed off but cold, judging by the goosebumps making themselves known across her bare arms. Her boots rest on the chair in front of her, one chrome leg shining next to flesh-and-blood.

Whoever she is, she’s beaming. That fact confuses the shit out of you because you’re not often met with friendliness, especially from unknowns. Or maybe, you think, it’s a well-concealed effort to disarm you. Whatever it is, it’s working; the urge to snap at her for intruding is dead on arrival.

You open your mouth to ask what she means, but you can’t get the words out before someone else interjects.

Minho, that bastard, shouts from across the room, “Spider! Got a minute?”

Her eyes light up in a way that says she has several, so long as he’s the one asking. Without another word, she hops to her feet and pushes the chair that held them back under the table. As she heads his way, she sends you an apologetic smile, like she somehow owes you anything.

“I don’t know what they unraveled by pulling that thread,” Changbin sighs, nodding towards the pair exiting the room. “But this place has been buzzing since I got here.”

You need something to chew on that isn’t this, so you reach over and grab the bag of shrimp chips from Jisung’s unsuspecting hands. The frown he gives you is cartoonish, but as usual, he doesn’t put up a fight. Your version of an apology is holding a spare chip out to him, which he happily accepts.

After shoveling a handful into your mouth, you mumble, “So now what?”

“I don’t know about you, but if these guys —” Changbin gestures vaguely around the room with his index finger pointed. “— Give me a target to point at, I’ll pull the trigger.”

You snort, “That’s a lot of trust.”

It doesn’t mean much, coming from you. Your metric is beyond fucked, and you know it. That word is foreign, though; so far out of your grasp that you can’t wrap your brain around it.

“Maybe it is,” Changbin mutters while he looks down at the empty can in his grip.

For a moment, that’s all he says. All he does is stare into the black hole of its opening, as if there’s some answer lurking in the emptiness below it. He must not find it, though, because he crumples the aluminum like a piece of scrap paper.

When he glances back up at you, you see the uncertainty in his eyes. It reads like fear, which manages to unsettle you.

“I just — I can’t see what I saw and do nothing.”

Your second month in the compound starts with a bang — no, a thud.

With your body being forcibly ejected from your cot, crashing onto the ground, and your jaw clenching shut quickly with a click of gritted teeth.

“How many fucking times are we doing this?” You growl, less than half-awake.

Already past today’s quota for rage, you form a fist and swing your arm back violently against the capsized cot; it scrapes along the cement floor and skitters further away from you. The sudden burst of movement doesn’t do anything to make you feel better, but it was worth a shot, you suppose.

Felix, whose sunshine smile is too goddamn bright for this hour, crouches down in front of you. He at least has the decency to look apologetic when he lilts, “Until you learn to wake up to an alarm, I fear.”

He pauses, eyes scanning for any genuine distress beyond your shitty mood.

“Does that hurt?” He frowns.

Bleary eyes follow his pointed finger to your elbow, now prickling with blood where you skinned it against the floor. It doesn’t; and you’re not even remotely concerned about it, so you swat his hand away without answering his question and shove yourself to your feet. Once standing, you wander over to your steamer trunk to grab something clean enough to wear.

The shadowy one, Hyunjin, brought your shit to you a week ago — thank god. He provided no explanation whatsoever for how he knew where you lived or how he managed to get inside your building, but you’re a beggar, not a chooser. You’d rather enable his burglary than keep wearing the same, re-washed clothes you came here with or borrowing from people you still don’t know well.

As you peel yesterday’s tank-top up and over your head, your gravelly voice flies out to Felix, who stands and moves to lean against the wall. “You at least going to feed me breakfast before you bore me with more target practice?”

That’s most of what your time together has been so far, anyway. The chain of command is sorting out details above your pay grade; and you condition yourself to jump as high as they may eventually ask you to.

Felix doesn’t answer you, which isn’t like him. You look at him out of the corner of your eye and find him staring up at the ceiling, like his life depends on it.

“What are you —?”

Oh.

You glance down, cutting your question off midway through. He’s giving you and your semi-exposed body privacy, that’s what.

Sensing blood in the water, you swim in to scoff, “You have no problem flipping my bed when I’m in it, but bras are where you draw the line? What kind of gentleman are you?”

Still averting his eyes, he rolls them. You do him the favor of tugging on a different, slightly wrinkled tank-top; but you don’t give him the courtesy of letting up.

“Where do you stand on ass, Felix?”

“Are you always this annoying, first thing in the morning?”

Amusement slips through the cracks despite his efforts to conceal it. You slip out of the cotton shorts you slept in, dip your toes under the fabric pooled around your ankles, and flick them at him. He concedes his staring contest to the panels overhead in order to catch them.

Impressive reflexes.

“I’m this annoying at all hours of the day.” You grin impishly for just a second, then shrug. “You’re just less able to handle it, first thing in the morning.”

Bending back over your trunk, you dig through for something denim. You land on black, high-waisted shorts with a triumphant, “Aha!”, and make a big show of raising your trophy overhead. Once again, you glance at Felix to see if your attempt to get a rise out of him was successful. In a way, yes, it was — just not in the way you expected.

Based on the way his gaze lingers on your thighs and the curve of your ass, you don’t think Felix even noticed your theatrics. You don’t think he means to stare, either. As far as you can see, it’s the perfect opportunity to fuck with him further.

“Admiring the tattoos?” You arch an eyebrow and wait for him to blush out of panic at being caught. “I can recommend the artist, if you want to hit them up.”

To your surprise, you don’t rattle him. Dark eyes flick up from your body to your face, and they don’t seem ashamed of where they’ve been. Your plan backfires. More than that, it blows up right in your face, which is starting to heat up.

“The cantine closes in five minutes. Training starts in ten,” he states matter-of-factly, holding your gaze. “So, you can either eat, or you can keep pretending you’re not trying to flirt with me.”

Your mouth drops open, but you can’t even snap back at him before he chirps, “The choice is yours, Scraps,” with a playful smile.

With nothing more to say, Felix leans away from the wall. On his way out the door, he gives you a lazy, two-finger salute. Dumbstruck, you stand there, watching him leave; wondering where the hell your bumbling, sweetly shy friend from back home managed to disappear to.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Felix waggles his finger at you. A smug smile toys at his lips when you let out a frustrated grunt. “That’s the problem.”

He takes a step away from you, raises his fists to mimic your posture, and throws a right jab out into the air ahead of him. When he draws it back, he pauses with his shoulders even.

“D’you see the issue with this?” He asks, loosening one fist so that he can gesture from shoulder to shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Is it that nobody’s currently hitting you?”

Felix, to his credit, is completely unbothered by the attitude you keep giving him. He’s far more patient than he should be with you. You, however, do not take criticism well.

“You square yourself off instead of retriggering an attack,” he gently corrects you. “By not turning and leading with your shoulder —” He twists slightly backwards, so that his body is angled similarly to the way it was when he struck in the first place. “— you leave all this surface area open.”

Okay, fine.

You’ll concede that this makes sense, but you will not admit to poor blocking. In fact, deflecting is what you’re best at, so that’s precisely what you do.

“And how exactly am I supposed to block hits that aren’t coming?”

Felix relaxes his stance with confusion scribbled all over his face. You don’t wait for him to ask what you mean, plunging right into your notes for him:

“This sparring shit doesn’t feel real because you refuse to hit me. It’s been weeks, and there still aren’t any stakes. If you’re going to insist that I learn this — which, by the way, feels pointless when I’m already armed —”

You gesture down to your thigh, where your pistol is normally strapped.

“— then you have to make me care.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, opting instead to quietly chew on the challenge you’ve raised. For a split second, you think you’ve finally grasped the straw that’ll break his back. He turns towards the door and walks away, seemingly giving up on trying to teach a rabid dog new tricks.

But Felix defies your expectations yet again, grabs your gear off the counter at the far side of the room, and heads back to you. As he walks, he pulls back the slide to fish out the round that waits in its chamber. Bullet still in hand, his focus shifts to the magazine, which he easily removes from the base of your pistol’s grip. After tucking your ammunition into the back pocket of his jeans for safekeeping, he holds your now-empty firearm and thigh strap out to you.

“Gear up.”

Now, it’s your turn to be confused. You accept the items he pushes into your hands with both eyebrows raised.

“Are we giving up on hand-to-hand, then?”

“Absolutely not,” Felix snorts with a shake of his head. “I’m just going to prove the necessity.” When you don’t budge, he waves his hand to hurry you along. “C’mon, Scraps. Strap in.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you slip the vertical strap over your belt loop and fasten it before doing the same to the horizontal piece around your thigh. Once it’s nestled snugly against your skin, you slide your weapon into its resting place.

Holding your hands up, you fire off a saccharine smile like the brat you are. “All done,” you chirp.

The smirk that appears on his face makes your stomach flip for two reasons, the least of which is the anticipation of his next move.

“You want it to feel real, right?” His voice drops so low that you feel it deep in your abdomen. “Fine by me.”

Like before, Felix steps slightly backwards. With a nod of his head towards your firearm, he challenges you, “Draw.”

It’s unfamiliar, seeing him counter you like this. Growing up, he was content to go in whichever direction you nudged him in. The version of Felix you knew back then was passive, agreeable to fault. You may not know what the fuck he’s planning now, but he radiates newfound authority that you almost want to respect, so you listen.

“Fine,” you demur while your fingertips trail over the cool, metal grip. “Make your point and move onto something useful.”

The next sequence of events flashes by so quickly that your brain can hardly keep up.

Just as soon as you pull the gun from its holster, Felix turns in his spot, channeling the momentum into a strong push off the ground. He’s in the air before you can even level the barrel; and in the blink of an eye, the side of his boot collides with your hand, forcefully ejecting the gun from your grip. The power behind his kick sends the weapon flying several meters away, where it clatters to the floor with a smack amidst the quiet.

Gasping more so out of surprise than pain, you recoil your stinging fist and clutch it to your chest. He reads your expression incorrectly, if his widened eyes are any indication. Immediately, Felix breaks his stance to step across the distance in between you.

Worried hands come to rest on your biceps, squeezing gently. He urgently asks, “You alright?”

You blink back at him, throughly stunned by how fucking fast his reflexes are, and he misinterprets that, too.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he sputters. His next words come out so frantically that they bleed together over the course of one breath. “I really didn’t want to hurt you; I just needed you to understand that your gun can’t always save you. Sometimes, you have to —”

“That was insane,” you blurt out.

Felix’s eyes widen, caught completely off-guard by your interruption. It’s understandable, you think. After all, it’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve given him over the past few weeks.

He peeps, “Oh?”

You nod vigorously — and there’s that sweetly shy boy from down the block, blushing slightly under the weight of your attention.

Somehow, seeing him this way feels like home; the one you knew before he disappeared, that you might actually admit to missing. Acting solely on instinct, you unfurl your right hand and seek out the warmth of his cheek, like it’ll flip a switch and turn the clock back.

It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t — but you can’t help feeling like this is fine, too.

Until you realize what the fuck you’re doing, and you see the starry-eyed look he’s giving you. Then, you do what you always do.

You dodge.

Patting his cheek patronizingly, you breeze, “I guess I’ll let you train me, then,” before turning to retrieve your gun.

“Oh, really now?” He laughs, like he’s already forgotten the way your mask just cracked. You can’t tell if you’re grateful for this, or disappointed. “Is violence all it takes to win you over?”

Disappointed.

You wish he’d called your bluff again, like he did so long ago in that closet you’re currently calling a bedroom. Once wasn’t enough; you want to be caught out, to have someone refuse to let you get away with the bullshit you’re always trying to pull. For some proof that you’re not the bulldozer you pretend to be.

Felix raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head teasingly to the side. “Are you actually going to shut up and take instruction this time?”

Like that.

“Maybe.” You crouch down to grab your discarded pistol off the ground, lips pursed to keep the satisfied smile off your face. “Are you going to stop pulling punches?”

Three weeks of sparring tick by before you manage to clean his fucking clock.

It came as a surprise to both of you; not just that Felix slipped up in the first place, but that you were fast enough to capitalize on an opening he’s otherwise never created. You might’ve gasped even louder than he did when you managed to seize the opportunity — but that memory is fuzzy already. It doesn’t matter, anyway, not to him. Either way, the point stands:

You actually learned from the shit he’s been trying to instill in you.

Having hobbled from the training room to his bedroom, Felix now sits on top of the old, metal counter that once served as a workbench. It’s not comfortable by any means, but he’d rather die than move from his current position. Between his knees, you stand close to him, holding a frozen sponge to his left eye with your right hand.

Funnily enough, that particular hand is the reason he needs an ice pack in the first place.

For a while, the pair of you exist in comfortable quiet. It’s nice, he thinks, just being present. He would’ve been happy to carry on that way for as long as possible, but the shitty voice in the back of his brain keeps yelling that he’s letting more moments slip by than he has to spare. Wasting time that he should be making up.

He clears his throat to shake off the rust, prompting you to glance down from his forehead to his eyes. Your expression is hard to read, but there’s anxiety in there, somewhere. Felix worries that you’re worried; you’re searching for a sign that you’ve somehow injured him further.

“You’re a quick study — if and when you want to be.” His teasing sounds pathetic because his voice is barely more than a groan. Still, he smirks, “Those corporate mercenaries won’t stand a chance.”

With his good eye, Felix watches as your mask cracks a little further in the shape of a smile.

For once, you simply nod in acknowledgement and let the compliment slip through your defenses without trying to deflect it. He wants to compliment you for that progress, too, but he’s hesitant to push his luck when he’s already flying half-blind by the seat of his pants.

Then again, it might be worth the risk to push the envelope — even if you succeed in punching his goddamn lights out for good. He doubts that he’d complain, if that were the case. You’d be an incredible last sight to ever see, wouldn’t you?

His internal monologue pipes up again, demanding that he gamble.

Every single muscle he has aches after spending hours sparring with you, but that’s not at all what he’s talking about when he says, “You’re a knockout, Scraps.”

It’s a cop out, but it’s something.

Just for a second, Felix wonders if you heard what he meant, and not just what he said. All his doubt disappears when that shy smile tugs even harder at the corners of your mouth.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, chuckling quietly. “If you want to get technical, you didn’t even lose consciousness —”

Carefully, you bring your free hand up to his forehead and brush flyaway strands of hair out of the way of the makeshift ice pack. By contrast, your fingertips are warm enough to simmer on his skin.

“— so you’ll have to try that joke again when you actually do.”

Although you could, you don’t take your hand back after unsticking his hair from the condensation on his skin. You lower it gently, let it rest on his shoulder, and leave Felix to wonder if it’s a choice, a convenience, or a reflex.

This eats at him.

A long time ago, this little gesture wouldn’t be something he’d have to guess at. He used to just understand, never once needed to be told. So far out of practice, he’s no longer fluent in your body language — and he hates it.

Unwilling to leave anything else up to interpretation, Felix looks up at you with one, unobstructed eye. “Wasn’t joking,” he murmurs.

You freeze without meeting his eyes.

If he didn’t know better, he might think your retinal mods had been knocked loose again. You don’t seem to see him, and that’s all he wants. All he gets is quiet, so he tries again: “And I’m not bullshitting you, either.”

It’s his low voice speaking your real name that finally draws you out of hiding. Surprised for just a moment, your expression softens when you notice the way he’s studying your reactions. You don’t speak at first, but your bottom lip is pinched between your teeth; a telltale sign that you’re trying to.

“Since this is apparently honesty hour,” you start with an exhale.

Felix braces himself for whatever evasive maneuver you’re going to throw next.

Shockingly, you don’t throw out a joke to change the subject. You take the ice pack off his eye so he can see you properly, set it down next to his thigh on the counter, and scrub your hands sheepishly over your face.

“You freak me the fuck out.”

You laugh despite yourself, and then you pause just like that; like you’re waiting on him to laugh at you, too. When he doesn’t, you take it as your cue to keep going: “Am I insane, or does this feel easy?

“I think both things can be true.” You shoot him a look that could — and might — kill him. He holds his hands up in surrender, but he keeps his eyes locked on you. “And I know you’re not used to easy.”

Felix doesn’t know what he expects you to do next, but your next move isn’t one he would’ve guessed. In the end, it’s your still-chilled palms reaching up to meet him, and your fingers filling the empty spaces between his. Brow furrowed, you study the way you fit together, like the words you’re searching for are hidden somewhere in the gaps of your chain-linked knuckles.

“I’m not used to it because I avoid it,” you correct him, frowning. “Easy scares the shit out of me. It just feels like a trap, you know? Like, the second you stop looking out for it, the other shoe will drop and knock your unsuspecting ass to the dirt.”

Keeping his fingers interlaced with yours, he lowers your joined hands until they rest against the tops of his thighs. You watch them go; he watches you, and he can’t help thinking that he’s the reason you armored up in the first place. That him leaving was the blow to the head that taught you to wear a helmet.

“I’ve got good reflexes,” Felix whispers, squeezing your hand.

At this, your eyes flick upwards. A microscopic crease forms between your eyebrows, and he knows exactly what’s coming next, so he says it first: “Excluding today, obviously.”

When you smile, it hits him even harder than your right hook did.

“What are you saying, exactly?” You ask, head tilting to the side as you narrow your eyes.

“Fuck the shoe.”

The look on your face suggests that he can’t possibly be serious, but he’s never been more so. Maybe he can’t promise you easy in a world like this one; and he can’t keep that fucking shoe from dropping, but he swears he’ll catch it when it does.

Felix has to let go of your hands to hold you properly. You lean into his touch when he snakes his arms around your waist; and you rest your forehead against his, careful not to press into the bruise that borders his eyebrow.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he whispers. You hum in reply, confirming your willingness to trade. “Kiss me now, and we’ll batten down the hatches later.”

Felix may have called you a quick learner, but you have to wonder what his basis for comparison is. From your vantage point, it’s him that catches on in a heartbeat, like nothing unexperienced is truly new to him.

Coincidentally, it’s also him that’s kneeling between your thighs, bearing the weight of your hinged knees over his shoulders and making you shake with his tongue alone.

“Fuck, fuck — nngh — fuck!”

It’s all you can say because it’s the best you can do.

Over and over, too drunk on the sensation of his mouth, you let profanity spill out of yours. He has you dripping in more ways than one, pooling on that godforsaken counter, and you can’t spare a single thought about the mess you’re making.

Every neuron fixates on him, the cotton-candy blue strands gripped tight between your fingers, and the way he devours you, like he’s making up for skipped meals.

“F-Felix,” you beg, breathless.

Looking up at you from under his lashes, he feigns innocence. It’s bullshit — he knows you’re on the brink of death, knows your whole damn body is buzzing — and his sweet smile doesn’t match his actions. You jolt, wailing, when another kitten lick trails over your clit.

“Hmm?” That low timbre of his vibrates through you when he pulls back, panting.

God, you’re spent already, but you can’t collapse until you know what he feels like, buried to the hilt in you. Something about that need makes you shiver; has your bottom lip quivering when you manage to squeak, “Please.”

Absolutely boneless, you slump against the wall behind you. With far more grace than you, Felix maneuvers his way out from under the tangle of your legs. He ensures that they fall gently back into place on the countertop.

“Gotta work on that stamina if you’re gonna help wage a war,” he teases.

The half-powered glare you shoot at him doesn’t stop him from leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. It doesn’t keep his fingertips from tracing languid lines down the lengths of your bare thighs, either.

Your voice is fucked out and weightless, far softer than you’ve ever heard yourself sound. “Is that what this is? Conditioning?”

The hand not caressing your thigh comes up to cradle your jaw, like it’s something fragile. It’s the first time anyone’s touched you as if you’re breakable, worth protecting — and motherfucker, you’re one soft smile away from crying.

“No.”

He states it much more firmly than he kisses you. So gentle that you can’t believe it’s real until you taste yourself on him, so warm that you dissolve like a sugar cube on his tongue.

Fuck any other person that’s ever pressed their lips to yours and called it a kiss. They’re liars, all of them. One by one, their names disappear with every passing second in which you know better.

“Need you,” you moan into his mouth.

Fistfuls of his shirt can’t bring him close enough. Even when his head dips down and his lips are at your throat, the ache wins out. You crave him anywhere — everywhere — all over you.

“Going crazy —” You gasp when his teeth nip at your collarbone. “— waiting on you.”

Greedy hands drop to the button of his jeans, fumbling to no avail. Apparently, your dexterity flew out the window two orgasms ago. A frustrated whine jumps out after it, pushing your head back as it goes.

Felix’s low chuckle soothes you, but it’s nothing compared to the relief you feel when his hands nudge yours out of the way. That, too, is a drop in the bucket; bliss crashes in waves when there’s no denim left to separate you. His hands land on your hips, fingertips pressing into your flesh as he guides you further down his length.

Never — not fucking ever — have you made a sound quite as pathetic as the one you bury into the crook of his neck. You can’t classify it, not as a moan or a whimper. It’s desperate — loud. It’s an air raid siren; every fucking barricade you’ve built over the years being blown to smithereens.

This is it, you think.

Fuck your bank account.

Fuck staring at the sky and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Fuck your contracts, your shithole apartment, and the million different ways you were set up to lose in this life.

This isn’t about you at all. It’s about you and him; all the space and time you’re dead set on reclaiming.

This is for us.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i’ve been working on this since JUNE, and it’s a much bigger undertaking (creatively and….. mentally) than anything else i’ve done before, so i’m scared and also excited to start sharing it with y’all.

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

tagging: @saintriots, @mal-lunar-28, @dabiscrustyfeet

wanna be tagged for future uploads? sign up here.

#stray kids #skz #felix #felix x reader #felix smut #felix angst #felix fic #lf #stray kids fic #skz fic #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids series #skz series #jade writes #re: force quit #kvanity

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koorminii · 2 years

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COLLEGESLUTS.COM | SKZ OT8 SERIES (m)

A crude name for an even cruder site, and the self-proclaimed bane of your existence. Made by thirsty sophomores when you were in freshman year, it’s something that’s stuck like glue in the minds of the student body. No one can resist a quick click, seeing your peers showing off their sexual fantasies for others to enjoy, posting their sexual escapades for others to see— except for you who’s hated the site since you first knew about it. Still, a year later, you’re vying for it to get shut down. Well they can’t have that, can they? They’re just gonna have to convince you the site isn’t all that bad.

GENRES: smut, fluff, crack, angst — college au

WARNINGS: profanity, sexual content/themes, alcohol consumption; more warnings tbd in individual one-shots

A/N: hi my loves, this series was super impulsive 😭. I thought of it today, am posting the series masterpost today, and started writing the first one-shot today, but i thought it would be fun and decided why not— and it would be easier for me to follow a storyline anyway so hopefully it won’t take that long for me to complete. Since I doubt i’m doing kinktober in full and am working on a long halloween fic, I feel like spoiling y’all with other things when i can!

each one-shot shouldn’t be too long, but i tend to get carried away more often than not. The first one-shot (hyunjin) will be the longest since it’s an introduction to the CSC universe. The series will be loosely connected and will tie back on things, but don’t consider the fact that you’re with eight guys at once like cheating bc they all know abt each other and each oneshot is centered on one member. Since it does follow somewhat of a storyline, the order of the fics isn’t by age but by their role in the CSC.

send an ask or comment to be added to the taglist!!

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

HWANG HYUNJIN IS LIVE.

PAIRING: hwang hyunjin x f!reader

GENRES: smut, crack, fluff (?), one-sided enemies to lovers, college au

WARNINGS: smut, alcohol consumption, profanity, inexperienced reader, corruption kink, more to be added

SUMMARY: There are three things you hate more than anything: 1. Your english Lit. professor, 2. Frat parties, and last but most definitely not least, 3. CollegeSluts.com and their founders. There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything: 1. College, 2. Back alley blowjobs, and 3. The frustrating desire to fuck you silly.

STATUS: WATCHED

BANG CHAN IS LIVE.

PAIRING: bang chan x f! reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, crack, friends to lovers, college au

WARNINGS: smut, profanity, inexperienced reader; more to be added

SUMMARY: Just because you’re friends with the group of eight doesn’t mean you’re going to stop fighting for the end of CSC, and Chan knows it. He’s just gonna have to distract you from your goal in any way he can, and there’s one thing he knows how to do better than anything else.

STATUS: WATCHED

SEO CHANGBIN IS LIVE.

PAIRING: seo changbin x f!reader

GENRES: smut, crack, kinda enemies to lovers, college au

WARNINGS: smut, profanity; more to be added.

SUMMARY: problems arising in the CSC means stress. Lots of it, and who else would Changbin look for in order to relieve that stress besides the cause of it?

STATUS: WATCHED

YANG JEONGIN IS LIVE.

PAIRING: yang jeongin x f!reader

GENRES: smut, crack, ? to lovers, jeongin doesn’t hate you but doesn’t trust you.

WARNINGS: smut, profanity, sexual “tests”; more to be added.

SUMMARY: Jeongin still has his doubts about you, and you can see on his face how even after all this time he’s still mistrusting of you. All you can do is pass his tests one by one until you succeed and he finally considers you one of CSC’s own.

STATUS: WATCHED

LEE FELIX IS LIVE.

PAIRING: lee felix x f!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, crack, friends to lovers

WARNINGS: smut, profanity, switch!felix; more to be added

SUMMARY: Felix has always been sweet to you, even when you were trying to tear down everything he’d ever worked for— to the point where you always wondered how he got wrapped up with this group in the first place. Well, you think you’re about to find out.

STATUS: WATCHED

KIM SEUNGMIN IS LIVE.

PAIRING: kim seungmin x f!reader

GENRES: smut, super fluff, best friends to lovers

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, profanity, the feels; more to be added.

SUMMARY: Seungmin has been there since your freshman year, always ready to lend you a helping hand and support you no matter how annoying he sometimes could be, and this time is no different. After a falling out with the CSC, he’s there to rub your back, hold your hand, and make you feel good.

STATUS: WATCHED

LEE MINHO IS LIVE.

PAIRING: lee minho x f!reader

GENRES: smut, angst-ish, ex-friends to friends to lovers, college au

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, profanity, an annoying amount of bickering; warnings to be added.

SUMMARY: Three months after your inevitable fallout with the CSC, even after making up, your relationship with the guys is still tense. Minho thinks he can fix that— and give you the punishment you deserved all those months ago.

STATUS: WATCHED

HAN JISUNG IS LIVE.

PAIRING: han jisung x f!reader

GENRES: smut, friends to lovers, college au

WARNINGS: …. the same as the other 7 posts. rebounding; more to be added.

SUMMARY: Han has had a girlfriend for as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been close to you even after your integration into the CSC, and you didn’t think that would ever change.

STATUS: WATCHED

mini taglist: @myjisung, @hwan-g, @hoeforstraykids, @americanokisses, @ughbehavior; i’m definitely missing some but i’ll update this soon!!

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #felix x reader #felix smut #changbin x reader #changbin smut

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writingforstraykids · 4 months

Note

Hii, can you write something Minchan x reader where Minho gets out of an abusive relationship and ends up at Chan's/your place? 🥺

A/N: Hey there, this started as a short drabble before I edited it and turned this into a fic. I hope this is what you wanted and you like it. Thank you for the request💕🥰

Second Chance

Word Count: 4725

Summary: Chan and you help Minho the night he gets out of his abusive relationship. Due to your shared past Minho seems anxious to intrude. A year later things seem to be going well until a situation escalates and triggers a panic attack.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, tw!physical abuse, tw!emotional abuse, tw!panic attack, bruises, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, poly!skz

You hum softly against your boyfriend's lips, indulging the warmth of his body against yours. You feel calm and loved here with him in the safety of your home. Smiling, you brush back his curls and nudge his nose with yours. "Come on now, you promised Min that dinner ages ago."

"Didn't I tell you? He texted me half an hour ago that he can't make it tonight," Chan says and kisses you lovingly. "That means I have time for you tonight, baby."

You frown softly as Chan starts kissing down your neck. "You think he's okay?"

"He didn't say anything else," Chan mumbles against your skin.

"Yeah, but-," you start and stop as he pulls back with a groan.

"Please, I don't want to think about our ex when I'm kissing you," he tells you.

"You mean our best friend, dummy," you giggle and Chan laughs, giving in. "I'm just worried. It isn't like him to cancel plans last minute without a reason."

"I don't know, maybe his boyfriend had plans?" he asks and you huff softly. "I know you don't like that guy, but-."

"You've seen the bruises, Channie, something's off," you say firmly, thinking of the last time Minho visited. He looked tired, sad even, and there had been a heavy bruise on his wrist that looked like someone grabbed him too hard. Chan asked him about it of course, but dropped it at how defensive Minho became.

"Listen, doll, he'll let us know if something's off," Chan says.

"Not when it's what I think it is," you shake your head. "What if he's being manipulated into thinking it's his fault? Or if he's too embarrassed to tell you? You know how hard it is for him to open up and-."

"Fucks sake," he climbs off the bed and searches for his phone. "I'm sure he's…," he starts and his face falls looking at his screen.

"Please don't tell me I was right," you whisper.

"I'm…Minho called. Ten times in the last twenty minutes," he says worriedly.

"Shit, you think they got into a fight?" you ask shocked.

"I don't know," he says and quickly puts on his sneakers, searching for his keys. His phone goes off, loudly this time as Chan had unmuted it. "Minho, what's wrong?" he asks worriedly and puts him on speaker.

"Chan, hyung, can I stay at yours? Just for tonight," Minho says shakily, glancing across his shoulder as he walks down the street to your apartment. "I'm so sorry about this but it's kind of an emergency," he rambles on.

"Yeah, sure, do you need me to pick you up?" he asks worriedly.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," Minho shakes his head and quickens his steps as someone walks down the street behind him, getting closer. "I'll be there in a minute anyways."

"You're driving here?" Chan asks.

"No," Minho swallows. "Don't know where my drivers license is. Or my keys. You know me, I tend to misplace my stuff," he laughs it off, almost choking on it.

Chan exchanges a meaningful glance with you. Minho did not misplace his stuff often. "Okay, just ring the bell when you're here, Y/N will buzz you in," he says.

"Chan," Minho bursts out panicked, closing his eyes for a second to remind himself to stay calm. "Please don't hang up yet," he pleads and looks back once more realizing the guy behind him is his boyfriend. "Fuck, no," he whispers.

"What's wrong?" Chan asks, eyes widening as Minho doesn't answer before yelping in pain. Chan drops his phone and races off, leaving your front door open.

You grab Chan's phone and rush to the door, waiting there anxiously. "Min?" you ask worriedly and only hear something crash to the ground, suspecting it was his phone.

Minho winces in pain as his boyfriend grabs his hair forcefully and tries to get away from him. "Please, stop," he begs, hot tears already filling his eyes again and spilling down his cheeks.

"Who the fuck allowed you to leave, huh? You have nowhere to go, you need me to function because you're too dumb to do it on your own," he shouts at him and punches him into the stomach. "Why the fuck would you run off?"

He groans surprised, fresh tears shooting into his eyes. "Please, I'm so sorry," he begs. Minho bends over in pain but doesn't get far due to the harsh tug at his hair. He chokes on his sobs and braces himself for the next hit.

"Let go of him!" Chan snaps as soon as he reaches them.

"Channie," Minho whimpers in fear, wincing as his boyfriend grabs his chin forcefully.

"Seriously? You're still not over him?" he asks darkly and Minho's eyes flicker anxiously. "Out of everyone you call him. I knew you'd cheat on me."

"I didn't-," Minho starts weakly and flinches heavily when Chan's suddenly next to him, one hand on his lower back.

"I won't say it again, let go of him," Chan says firmly.

"I won't do shit," he tells him sharply. "This is my boyfriend, Chan, back off."

"Alright then," Chan says and with a swift move he punches him right into the face, delivering another forceful hit into his stomach.

Minho backs away as soon as his hold on him lessens and hides behind Chan, anxiously grabbing the hem of Chan's shirt. "Chan," he whispers. "Chan, we should leave."

"Get inside, I'll be there in a minute," Chan tells him.

"Channie he has a knife," Minho begs him through tears.

Chan reaches back for him and takes his hand, eyeing the man in front of him. "Minho, run," he says and pulls him with him. Chan pulls the front door closed behind them and follows Minho, who's already stumbling up the stairs to your apartment.

Your eyes widen as you see him rushing up the stairs, tears streaming down his face. "Minho," you say shocked as he gets closer and you notice how hard he's shaking.

Chan reaches the door only seconds later and gently shoves Minho inside. "Come on, let's get inside and close that door."

Minho doesn't get far, sliding down against a wall in your hallway as soon as the door's closed. He pulls his legs to his chest, whimpering as he rocks himself, trying to calm down. Heavy sobs shake his body as he tries to hold them back and his breathing quickens.

You subconsciously grab Chan's hand, too shocked to move for a moment as you watch him breaking down. That's a very rare side of Minho. You squint your eyes as Minho messily wipes his cheeks and you can see the bruised skin beneath the makeup he put on to hide them. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you take a few steps forward and crouch down in front of him, keeping your distance. "Minnie?" you ask softly and after the third time he snaps out of his state and stares at you with wide eyes. "Minnie, what happened?" you ask gently, barely noticing Chan sitting on the floor next to you.

"Please don't tell anyone," he presses out, glancing from you to Chan. "You can't," he whimpers.

"Don't tell anyone what?" Chan asks calmly. He knows what he saw out there but did Minho?

"That we had a fight. No one can know," he says desperately.

"Why?" Chan asks patiently and fear flickers in Minho's eyes. "What happens if someone knows?"

Minho shakes his head rapidly, backing further away against the wall. "Please don't."

"What?" Chan asks and reaches out for him, placing his hand on his knee.

Minho whimpers in fear, flinching heavily, and pushes himself up. "This was a mistake," he says and stumbles toward your door. "Sorry for bothering you two."

"No, Min, you're not bothering us," you try to get up but Chan holds you back, reading the situation better than you.

"Kitten?" he asks and Minho stops in his tracks at that old term of endearment. "Please stay? You're safe here, we don't have to talk about it today, I promise."

Minho hugs himself and glances at the door, torn between his options. "I-uhm-I don't know if…," he trails off meeting your worried eyes.

"It's okay, you can stay," you assure him gently. "We have all the time you need."

"It's fine, I'll just go back home," he chokes on the last word, his eyes betraying him.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Chan tells him gently.

"Listen, Chan, just because things with you were different doesn't mean it's all bad," Minho grows defensive.

"Different? You mean because I didn't hit you in the middle of the street?" he asks and you contort your face, unsure of how Minho would take that. "Come on, you know better than that. You don't deserve to be treated this way."

"Yes, I do," Minho whispers. "I deserve every little bit of it because it's my own fault I gave up on something good. I gave up on you."

"Sometimes things don't work the way we want them to…but you didn't give up on us. And we won't give up on you now," Chan says firmly.

Minho's face falls in a sob as he gives in. "Channie," he whimpers and Chan gets up slowly.

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks caringly and Minho nods anxiously. "Okay, deep breaths," he says as he steps closer and Minho subconsciously takes a step back. "I'm here, it's okay," he promises softly, holding his hand out for him. "It's Channie, remember?" he asks soothingly and Minho nods, seeming as if he has to process that information first. Chan very gently places his hands on Minho's shoulders first before fondling down his arms. "Easy there," he whispers and takes another step forward, carefully wrapping his arms around him. "That's okay, kitten?"

Minho nods weakly and buries his face in his shoulder, hugging him back hesitantly. "I can't breathe," he whispers, clutching his shirt as he feels the panic still boiling deep inside of him.

"Y/N, come here," Chan tells you, still keeping his volume down. "Is it okay if Y/N hugs you too?" he asks, soothingly rubbing his back. "You need to feel some kind of weight or pressure to calm down right?"

Minho bites back a sob, hearing that Chan still remembers that. "Yeah," he answers shakily and sucks in a sharp breath.

You follow Chan's instructions, stepping behind Minho and hugging him as well. You and Chan trap him between your bodies and hug him tightly. "Okay, Minnie, now breathe in deep through your nose…and out through the mouth. Deep breaths," you tell him, guiding him through it. You have witnessed him panicking once before after their video shoot high up on that helicopter landing platform. It feels like ages ago.

Minho grows calmer in your hold after a while, his breathing calms and his body stops shaking. Instead he's shivering with exhaustion and the adrenaline leaving his body. "I promise I'll be gone tomorrow," he tells you quietly.

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. One step at a time, okay?" Chan says soothingly and exchanges a worried look with you. "Let's go and sit down?"

"That sounds like a good idea," you nod, gently nudging Minho forward into your apartment. You don't have to tell him the directions, this has been his home before after all. You go to grab some warm blankets and Chan takes his laptop and headphones from the sofa to make some room. Minho stands still in the middle of your living room, anxiously fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. "Chan, why don't you go and help Min put on some comfy clothes?"

Chan turns to look at you and glancing at Minho makes him realize your intention. "Sure, come on," he says and carefully takes his hand pulling him with him. Minho follows him until they reach your bedroom and he comes to a sudden stop. "Min?" he asks.

"I-uh-I'm sorry," he shakes his head, following him inside. The amount of memories crashing down on him steals his breath for a moment. It's still the same bed, curtains and even the pictures of his cats are still on your desk in the corner. He remembers the many intimate moments he spent here with both you and Chan, the many nights and lazy mornings. "It's too much," he whispers.

Chan closes the closet and tilts his head at him. "What is?"

"This here," he says, vaguely waving through the room. "I can't go back to his place, because that's not home. This isn't either because it was before I fucked it all up. I have nowhere to go and-," tears brim his eyes all over again and he huffs at himself in utter frustration. "God, I'm so stupid."

Chan sits down at the edge of the bed and pats the space next to him. "Come here," he says and after a moment of hesitation he does. "I know you're going through shit right now, your feelings are all over the place and you're scared and confused. But you're not alone, you don't have to be."

Minho chews on his lower lip and stares down as Chan carefully takes his hand again. "He was right."

"About what?" he asks calmly.

"I am still in love with the two of you. I do think about what I lost here a lot…but I never told him that," he confesses quietly. "I was so scared that things wouldn't work out or our fans wouldn't accept us the way we were that I freaked out, destroying the thing I was so scared of losing."

Chan swallows softly and fondles his knuckles as he listens. "How long has this been going on?"

"What? The screaming? The hitting? The hairpulling?" Minho asks sarcastically before exhaling loudly. "A month into the relationship."

"A-Minho that's been five months," Chan exclaims in shock.

"I know," he nods and stares into the distance. "I felt like I deserved it. He encouraged that and I got stuck in this shitty cycle of wanting to be useful for that person you fear but strangely still love."

"What did he do?" Chan asks and a shadow travels over Minho's face.

"Not tonight," he shakes his head and gives him a sad smile. "If that's okay."

"Okay, yeah, of course," Chan nods quickly. "You don't have to say anything but…we love you too. And we miss you, we miss your dumb jokes and sassy comments. We miss your adorable laugh and Y/N misses you every time she has to glam up all on her own. So, we think about you a lot as well. What I'm trying to say is that if you'd ever feel ready, we're there. If not, we'll always be your friends and this means you can stay with us for as long as you want to, no matter what you choose. It's your choice, okay?"

"Okay," he whispers and drops his head, burying his face in his shoulder.

"But that's also not something to discuss tonight," Chan says, planting a tiny kiss on his hair. "Just wanted you to know you're always welcome here."

Minho squeezes his hand tightly. "Thank you."

Chan stays there with him for another while, mindlessly rubbing his knuckles and whispering soothing nonsense to him from time to time. He doesn't know how long they stay there like this but it seems to help Minho's body calm down. You come to look for them after a while, your expression softening seeing them.

You sit down at Minho's other side and gently pat his thigh. "Hey there, doing a little better?"

He hums gently and blindly reaches out for your hand, squeezing it as he finds it. "I love you, you know that right?" he asks and you're too stunned to answer for a second.

"I-uh-yeah, I guess I do," you stammer and Chan flashes you a compassionate smile.

Minho pulls away from Chan's shoulder and turns to look at. "I know I fucked up, Y/N, even if you say I didn't. I didn't hurt you on purpose."

"I know," you say quietly.

"I just…I was scared," Minho says and lets go of Chan's and your hands. "And now I'm back here and I've never been more scared in my life before," he admits shakily and rubs his thighs, trying to steady himself.

"He can't hurt you here, I promise," you try to soothe him.

"I'm scared of what that shit did to me," he shakes his head. "I'm scared of him. I'm scared to lose you because I'll be a burden now…and it fucking terrifies me that I'm so open and honest about my feelings right now," he adds at the end making you all laugh.

"That means you're making progress," you say and a weak smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"We can work this all out together…and if there are things we can't deal with we'll find someone who can," Chan adds and Minho nods thankfully.

"I want you to keep that up and be very clear about your boundaries with us, okay?" you ask. "We don't want to trigger anything or make you feel uncomfortable."

"I can try," Minho promises bravely.

"And don't hesitate asking us if you need anything," Chan continues.

"I will," he nods.

You pull him into a hug and bury your face in his hair, tears brimming your eyes as he hugs you back tightly. "We got you, Minnie."

One year later

Chan paces your shared apartment, phone clutched in his hand, as he tries to stay calm. You can tell he has trouble doing so, noticing the way his hands shake, his chest heaves with irregular breaths, and the worry clouding his usually soft brown eyes. Your boyfriend checks the time once again, a low groan slipping from his lips as he realizes only five minutes have passed since he last checked.

“Channie,” you say very gently, and he stops, staring at you with wide eyes. “Come here, sit down for a minute.”

“Can’t,” he shakes his head and continues the reckless pace from before.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself at the same time.

“You don’t know that,” he shakes his head firmly. “What if that asshole met him somewhere and-” his voice breaks, and he quickly shuts his mouth again.

“Chan,” you say firmly. “We can’t keep on expecting the worst. Nothing has happened in a year. Min’s an adult, he can do what he wants. If he decides to stay away for a whole day, then that’s his choice.”

“He’s not thinking straight at the moment, you know that. Now that he's been with us for a whole year everything comes up again. He’s emotional; he keeps on seeking our help, trying not to bother us, and I need to keep him safe, I-” he breaks off again as he meets your eyes.

“Stop making what happened to him your fault,” you tell him. “I know he means a lot to you, I know you want to keep him safe, but stop blaming yourself for what his ex did.”

“He called me Y/N. Repeatedly. I was busy making out with you as this asshole hurt him,” he says, getting more emotional with every passing minute. “And still, he came here as soon as he could.”

You have enough and slip off your chair, making your way over to him. “That’s because he trusts you…and sometimes you have to trust him too,” you say and offer him a hug.

Chan pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your hair. He can feel your heart racing against his chest and snorts. “So much to staying calm.”

“It’s not that I’m not worried myself, Channie,” you remind him calmly.

You still remember the night one year ago as if it was yesterday. Not a night has passed since then without him joining the two of you in your bed at night, first as your friend, then in search for the love he thought he lost. Time healed the bruises, the split lip but not the scars left on his heart, and the fear that was still deep in his bones. By now you were finding your routine as a throuple but there was still a lot to figure out. So, of course, Chan gets worried when Minho doesn’t show up for a whole day and doesn’t answer his phone.

The front door to your apartment opens, and you look up surprised as Minho strolls in calmly, two bags in his hand, keys in the other. He frowns softly as he spots the two of you and tilts his head at you, meeting your eyes. "You're okay?"

Chan lets go of you, and you can tell his worries get replaced by anger, which is also a very familiar part of him worrying to you. “Where the fuck have you been?” he asks firmly.

“What?” Minho asks confused, flinching at the harsh tone.

“I tried calling you for like a hundred times, Min. I’ve been worried sick all day about you!” Chan goes on, letting his anger flow freely now.

"Chan," you try gently.

Minho’s stomach turns painfully as the common fear of what is about to unfold takes hold of him. He puts down the bags shakily, bracing himself for all the hurtful words that would leave his hyung's mouth at any second. He deserves every one of them. "I-I turned off my phone," he says quietly.

"You can't be serious," Chan snaps, and you glance at him worriedly. "I told you always to keep that damn thing close so I can find you when something happens."

"I-I'm sorry, hyung," Minho says shakily, staring at the floor in front of him. "I know that was stupid. I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid, Min," you chime in gently, but the younger male shakes his head firmly.

"I am," he presses out, body shaking in fear as he feels put back into a situation he thought he escaped.

"I told you so often," Chan insists tiredly, voice growing more gentle. "How could you forget that?"

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, tears shooting to his eyes and spilling right down his cheeks. "I-I should've told you. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," he starts, sounding a little panicked. "I'm so stupid, I'm sorry I worried you. Please don't punish me."

Chan's whole demeanor changes at that sudden breakdown, face falling. "Fuck," he breathes out, realizing how triggering this must've been. "Minho, no one is going to punish you," he says gently, making his way over, not knowing that being soft was exactly what Minho got before the snap.

Minho subconsciously takes a step back, shivering. "Please, I'll do better, I promise," he tries to save himself. Stumbling back blindly, he trips over Chan's backpack and falls backward, hitting his head at the front door as he crashes onto the ground.

"Shit," you breathe out shocked.

By the time Chan reaches him to help him up, he's sobbing, curling up on the floor and protecting his head. "Min, hey, hey, it's okay," Chan tries, crouching down. The moment he touches him, Minho screams in fear, making him flinch back.

"Please," he sobs, making himself even smaller.

Chan looks back at you, eyes filling with tears and practically screaming for help. He backs away quietly from Minho as you make your way over.

You crouch down next to him and hesitantly place your hand on his lower back. "Minnie," you say soothingly, knowing no one else but Chan and you called him that. "Minnie, angel, you're safe. I'm here, no one can hurt you, okay?" Your voice breaks through the fog of panic, and Minho scrambles onto his knees, lunging forward and holding onto you tightly. You hold onto him just as tight, soothingly running your hand through his hair. "Shh, it's okay," you whisper and rock him in your arms. "It's okay, you're safe."

Minho sobs into your sweater, holding onto you for dear life. He tries focusing on your scent, how your hair feels beneath his fingertips, and how your body is warm against his. He tries pushing all the dark memories aside, reminding himself that he is, in fact, safe. Safe in your warm embrace.

You glance over at Chan, who watches you, still standing in the same spot. The guilt in his eyes is overwhelming, and he doesn't bother wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. You hold out your hand for him, but he shakes his head weakly. "Channie babe, come here," you say soothingly. "Chan was just worried, he didn't mean to upset you, dear," you say toward Minho, and the younger one nods bravely. "Come on," you encourage your boyfriend.

Chan slowly makes his way over, shaking as he sits beside you. "Minnie, I'm so sorry," he presses out, hesitantly rubbing his back.

Minho pulls back and looks at him through teary eyes. "Something's wrong with me," he whispers, and Chan searches his eyes confused. "You'd never hurt me."

Chan firmly shakes his head. "Never," he promises. "I'm sorry I got mad."

Minho straddles his lap, burying his face in Chan's shoulder. He wraps his arms around his neck and sniffles softly. "No, I'm sorry for disappearing," he says shakily.

Chan hugs him tight, burying his face in his hair and closing his eyes. He gently runs his hand over his back before fondling his head. "Does it still hurt?" he asks, and Minho shakes his head.

You watch them with a gentle smile, knowing how much they mean to each other. Minho pulls back after a while, pressing their foreheads together with a weak laugh. "I'm sorry, Channie love, I know I worried you."

"Stop that now," he says gently, rubbing his sides soothingly. "I know you didn't mean to."

"Thank you for always trying to keep me safe," he tells him, cupping his face.

"Of course," your boyfriend whispers.

Minho wraps him back into his arms and closes his eyes for a moment before speaking up. "I just wanted to take a walk this morning, but then he bombarded me with messages, having another fake account. I got upset, turned my phone off, and kept on walking around aimlessly for hours. I completely forgot the time."

"That's okay, Min, it happens," you assure him, sitting down next to them.

Minho flashes you a weak smile and squeezes your hand gently. "I should've told you guys. I wasn't thinking."

"Happens," Chan nods and soothingly rubs his thighs.

Minho meets his eyes again and remains silent for a while, sinking deeper into that warm feeling of comfort and safety. "I actually bought dinner on the way back."

You giggle softly and pat his shoulder. "That's sweet."

"And uhm…I saw something that seemed fitting for the two of you," he says, ears burning up a little as he climbs off Chan's lap. Minho grabs the smaller bag and takes out two small boxes, handing the longer one to you.

Chan opens his and takes out a beautiful silver bracelet with a small pendant in the middle. There's a heart-shaped hole in the pendant, and opening your box, you know why: the heart's attached to a necklace. "Oh my God, that's so cute," you beam at him. Chan helps you put it on, and Minho watches you with a soft smile. "Where's yours?" you ask and Minho frowns softly.

"I-uhm…I shouldn't-," he shakes his head, swallowing softly at your confused expressions.

"Kitten, you're a part of us," Chan says softly and Minho's eyes brim with tears again.

"But-," he starts out weakly.

"We love you. This is your home, angel," you tell him and smile as Chan caresses his cheek and Minho instinctively leans into it.

"We'll go back there tomorrow and find something fitting for you," Chan suggests.

A hot tear falls down Minho's cheek as he watches the two of you amazed. "Okay," he whispers and closes his eyes as Chan plants a soft kiss on his hair. He giggles softly as you kiss the tip of his nose and smiles at the two of you through his tears. "I love you two so much."

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/ removed from the taglist)

@soullostinspaceandtime @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @aaasia111 @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @galaxycatdrawz

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katieraven · 2 years

Text

insomnia

idol!chan x producer!reader, afab!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: tiiiiny bit of angst, fluff, smut - minors dni please!

warnings: sleep issues, (work-)friends to lovers, a teensy bit of anxiety I guess, dom!chan, brat!(?)reader - idk how to describe it tbh there's no reeeal dynamic of that kind, oral sex (f. receiving), choking, piv, he calls her babygirl once, darling and baby used very sparingly, basically they've both been into each other and didn't quite realise that until now -- did I miss smth?

summary: chan helps you with a work issue and it turns into something different

a/n: hii so it has finally happened, my first skz fanfic has arrived! I already have wayy too many ideas for future ones and I'm like not a hundred percent satisfied with this one but it's the first thing I've written in a year (?) so go easy on me please. I just needed to get my chan feelings out in some way or form and this happened ANYWAYS enjoy byyye - katie

also hi @chvnnie this is the fic I was talking about - you've been a huge inspiration btw I would almost go so far as to call you the main reason I wrote this at all whoops

this is a work of fiction and does not represent stray kids.

You’re in your head. It’s not an unusual thing, in fact it’s how you spend most late-night hours in your tiny studio. You almost live here, it’s basically your second home. If not your first, your actual flat being your second. While a lot of people stay late to work on their various projects, only very few stay quite as late as you do.

It’s one of the few moments you are not troubled by the weight on your shoulders. Three a.m. in the morning, absentmindedly reaching for a cup of now cold coffee, drinking it without noticing its staleness, too deeply immersed in whatever you’re working on to care. Your fingers are flying over the keyboard, eyes flitting over the different tracks in the audio program before you, feverishly changing, moving, improving.

Only today something goes wrong. You don’t know what you did, but within seconds, everything is gone. You blink. The audio program is empty. Not a single track lies before you. The progress you’ve amassed over the last hours, days rather, vanishes right before your eyes. You try a couple of short-keys and combinations but not one single track returns.

“Ugh, fuck me”, you sigh, wiping your face.

“Well, if you insist …”

It startles you, but once you recognise the voice, you relax. Chan is standing in the doorway of your studio – you had left the door open to let some air in, after a particularly hot afternoon. The building was empty enough for there not to be anyone walking past. Well, almost.

Chan smirks at you, one dimple appearing in the corner of his mouth. While usually his comment would have made you laugh, chuckle at least, you can only huff out a lightly amused breath, before turning your head back to your monitor. Still empty lines where tracks used to be half a minute ago. Chan’s smirk turns into a frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His concerned voice touches something inside you and you feel tears well up in the corner of your eyes. No. You’re not going to cry.

“I, uh, it’s nothing, really.”

“Sure”, he scoffs. “Cause I’m gonna believe that.”

He appears to the left of you and looks over your shoulder. After a couple more short-keys and opening three folders, you give up and lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’re not going to cry. It’s okay. It’s fine.

“Will you tell me what is going on or do I have to magically divine it from the fact that you are sitting in front of an empty audio program?” Of course, he got it immediately.

“I was working on something, and it vanished.”

He hums and his eyes focus on the monitor in front of you.

“It’s not important, really, I can do it again.”

His left eyebrow raises, then he leans over your keyboard and starts working on getting your tracks back. You feel guiltier the longer he takes, it’s just your own, self-indulgent stuff after all.

“Really, you don’t have to … it’s nothing important.”

“Tell that to the artists you’re working with. Or the hours you probably spent on this.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s-“

The tracks reappear. All of them. Like magic. You can only stare at the screen, dumbfounded. He stands back up, a proud smile on his face. Then he hits the spacebar, and the beat starts filling the tiny studio. You startle and jump forwards to stop him, but he grabs your shoulder and presses the spacebar himself.

“Why don’t you want me to listen to it?” He asks, a slight frown on his face.

You wipe your face. “It’s … personal.”

Chan crouches down next to you so that he’s roughly on eyelevel with you. “Hey. It’s just me.”

You turn the chair towards him, and he grabs the armrests. You look at him for a beat, then it hits you that you just almost lost everything you’ve been working on for a while. This is different than your usual work. This is personal. It’s a song that you’ve been producing only for yourself, not JYPE, not any other artist. This is your baby. You just almost lost it, and he brought it back. The tears come back, and this time they’re stronger. You just let it roll over you.

As soon as the first tear falls, Chan’s expression drops. “Oh no, no, what’s wrong?”

His hands fly from the armrests to your knees, then your thighs, rubbing soothing patterns up and down. Your sobs turn into hick-ups, and you hate it, hate that he sees you this vulnerable. No one ever does, you wear armour at work. It’s what you remind yourself of now. You reach for the shield you put up around your heart with both hands and pull, until it’s up again and your sobs die down. That’s the reason, yes. Not the fact that Chan is still kneeling in front of you and hasn’t stopped rubbing your thighs.

You breathe out shakily. In again, and out. Then you finally dare to look at him. “Thank you, for saving it.” You gesture towards the screen.

His look is still probing, searching for what you just broke down for, but a smile curls up the corners of his mouth. “Of course. It wasn’t that far gone, honestly. I barely did anything.”

You roll your eyes and weakly slap his arm. “Stop always understating everything you do.”

He chuckles. “I apologise profusely.” The formal tone makes you smile a bit.

“Now. Will you let me listen to this absolutely not important personal stuff you made?”

You hesitate and look at the open door.

“Let me rephrase. If I close the door, will you let me listen?”

This, and the adorable face he’s pulling, finally makes you laugh and cave. “I guess, yeah.”

Your eyes follow him as he gets up and walks to the door, closes it, and locks it.

“For good measure”, he winks.

It’s one of those moments that make you realise that in all the time you’ve been at JYPE, you’ve made a lot of acquaintances and a couple friends, but none as wonderful as him. You often think he’s too good for this world – the rest of his friends do, too. Although the rest of his friends probably don’t get all warm and fuzzy inside when he smiles at them. Or find it hard to concentrate when he wears muscle shirts. Or watches his performances, more than necessary, and then blames it on just wanting to be a good friend. Supporting him, and such. God you’re down bad.

He walks back to his spot next to your chair. His finger hovers over the space bar and he looks at you, the unspoken question in his eyes. You steel yourself and nod.

Then the beat fills the studio again. It’s the first time you have heard this aloud yourself, so far, you’d only ever listened to it on your headphones. You’re almost scared to look over to see his expression, terrified of his opinion. This is like a tiny piece of your soul, and you just handed it to him, hoping he would not drop it. Of course, he doesn’t. When you finally do, he stands there, eyes wide, looking over at you. His intense stare makes you squirm.

“It’s nothing special, and it’s not done yet, you know how it is with these things, they take ages to be finished and this is just very rough, I-“

“This is amazing”, he interrupts you. Now it’s your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”, you blurt out.

He turns the music down a tad, then he turns back to you.

“I really like it. And it’s different from the stuff you make for other artists.”

Somehow, you’re still anxious.

“What I mean by that is that I always hear pieces of you in other people’s music and I’ve always been a bit sad that you don’t get to make stuff that’s entirely your own. This – “, he gestures over to the screen, “is really you. All of this. Like, I can hear some of your inspiration in this, but the entire thing just screams you.”

Which is the exact moment your singing starts, and you want to vanish into the ground. Because his mouth falls open, and he turns the music up again. Moments go by of him just standing there, completely taken by the music. His expression has softened and there is a slight smile dancing around his features. You lean over to turn the music off again, there’s only so much time that you can take listening to your own voice right now.

When Chan turns back to look at you, head slightly angled down, you’ve never seen a warmer smile from him than right now. It overwhelms you, the sheer affection for this wonderful man in front of you, and you shoot to your feet and throw your arms around him. He is startled for just a second, before he hugs you back so tightly that you feel like he put something inside you back together. It makes you cry again.

“Shh. It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” He rubs circles along your back, and you breathe in slowly, engulfed by his scent that is so distinctly him.

“Thank you”, you mumble into his shoulder, and he chuckles, before pulling away. “What did you say?”

You huff, and lightly punch his arm. “I said thank you.”

“No, thank you for trusting me enough to show this to me.”

You try to hide in the crook of his neck, but he keeps you half an arm’s length from him. Somehow, you end up staring right into his eyes. The honesty and affection you find there send goosebumps up your arms, up until where his hands are still wrapped around them. Suddenly you realise how terribly close you are to each other, and how he’s just a friend and this shouldn’t make you as tingly as it does. You shake off his hands and clear your throat. He just sees you as a friend. Right?

Because the way his eyes burn with something you’ve never noticed before makes you question your own sanity. You try and look anywhere but into them.

“Hey, we should probably unlock the door again, you know, unless people start to wonder.”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

None of you moves.

“But it’s also 3 a.m. and we’re the only people in the building.”

There’s nervous laughter bubbling in your throat and you rub your arm only to keep your hands occupied. Then you make the mistake of looking at him again. It’s involuntary, really, your eyes get caught on his black sweatpants and travel up his body almost automatically. There’s not much you can do about it. And when your eyes hit his, you’re done for. He looks at you with such intensity that you simply cannot turn away. A shaky breath leaves your lungs when he blinks slowly, only to look at you again, the same fire in his eyes, pupils blown wide.

You open your mouth, “Chan, I – “

He moves closer, as if you saying his name had shaken him out of a stupor. He reaches for the hand that you wrapped around your arm and gently pries it away. When it falls to your side, he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“What are you doing?”, you whisper, unable to speak any louder, scared that it would make this real. Make this have consequences.

Chan’s thumb is drawing patterns on your hand, and it covers you in goosebumps again.

“I kinda really wanna kiss you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes still locked onto his. They’re burning into you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. He lifts his other hand up to your face and lightly touches your cheekbone. You have to actively keep your eyes from fluttering shut, body still covered in goosebumps. Your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

“Would that be okay?”

You breathe out a shaky “yes”, and he’s on you in seconds. He lets go of your hand and instead grabs both sides of your face, tilting it so that you’re looking up at him, before sealing your lips with his.

Everything is happening too fast. For a second, your arms hang limply at your sides, but then he starts moving against you and you can’t help but grasp the hem of his shirt and pull him closer. He hums against you, and you open your mouth almost on instinct. A tiny noise escapes you and he catches it, drinking it in hungrily. You push and he walks backwards until the back of his knees hit your chair. He clumsily sits down, and you move until you’re straddling him.

Only then do you break the kiss, both heavily panting as you stare at each other. You lift your hand from his shirt and start tracing his lips, his cheekbone, until your palm lies flat against his cheek. He nuzzles into it and closes his eyes, hands falling to your waist. God, you think, he’s so pretty. You watch his chest rise and fall rapidly and feel his thighs move under yours, and that’s when you realise what exactly is happening right now.

“Channie”, you whisper, and his eyes fly open, fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

His fingers start pulling your shirt up just enough to be touching the delicate skin of your waist and you shiver, biting your lip to stop a sound that would have been decidedly too desperate.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m doing something I’ve been wanting to do for way too long.”

Your hand slips to his neck and his eyelids flutter, but there is a concerned look in his eyes. He sees your hesitation.

“Should we be doing this? Are you even allowed to?”, you ask.

His fingers stop and he lifts his hands to your face, searching for something in your eyes. “I could not care less about what we should or shouldn’t do. The only thing I care about right now, is if you want this. But if you don’t, then that’s okay.”

You melt at the honesty in his expression, shiver at the way his fingertips are toying with the hair on the nape of your neck.

“What exactly does this mean?”, you whisper. It feels impossible to move right now. Like you’re being held in place by his intense eyes.

“Well.” His thumb brushes over your cheekbone and you sigh.

“First of all, I want to kiss those pretty lips of yours. And then”, his fingers travel from your neck down your arms, “I’d like to make you come so hard the only thing you remember is my name.”

A moan tumbles from your lips, and almost on instinct you roll your hips against his crotch. He hisses and grabs your waist. “But I need to know you want that, too.”

You nod, a bit too quick for your liking, but you don’t find it in yourself to care anymore. His hands gently rock you against him and your eyelids flutter, gaze locked onto his. “Use your words, babygirl. I need to hear you.” The condescension shakes you out of your haze.

“Don’t be so fucking patronising.”

A smirk curls around the corners of his lips. “Still need to hear ya, though.”

You lean down as if to kiss him and sink your teeth into his lip, just enough for it to sting, pull, and let go again. He watches you with the intensity of a predator watching his prey and something inside you relishes in it.

“Yes, I want that”, you finally give in, “I want you.”

He pounces with a low sound that comes from deep inside his throat, a growl, almost, and latches onto your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, kisses open mouthed and messy. His hands keep holding you against him. You roll your hips, both of you moaning in unison, your hands are in his hair, and you pull on his curls until he moans into your mouth, making you smile into the kiss.

He feels it against his lips and pulls away. “Oh, you’re a mean one, hm?”

The smile you give him in return would be angelic, if not for the vicious glint in your eyes. It makes him chuckle lowly, before suddenly standing, pulling you up with him and picking you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he walks over to the sofa in the corner of the room, lowering you down until your back touches the cushions.

He's kneeling between your legs, propped up with one hand next to you, the other on your cheek again. You tip your head back, baring your throat, and you can see understanding flash in his eyes. His hand slowly moves down until his fingers wrap around you and you feel the slight pressure on your pulse point. Your breath quickens.

It makes you want to rub your thighs against each other, but his legs are in the way, leaving you to squirm under him as he just watches you intently. His other hand travels up your body and pushes your shirt up with it, until he finds your sports bra. His thumb glides over your hard nipple poking through the fabric and it sends a spark of electricity right to your core.

“You wanna play mean? I can do that.”

His fingers close further around your throat and the increasing pressure ever so slowly clouds your mind, until your mouth falls open and you whisper his name.

“Hm?”

You try and move your core against his thighs but you’re too far away, his hand keeping you in place.

“Do something”, you hiss as he just keeps watching you, an amused smile on his face.

“Did you forget your manners, baby?”

You roll your eyes but decide to play along. “Please, do something.”

“But you look so pretty like this.”

Your hands fly up to his arms and you groan, but he just chuckles. “I told you, I can be mean. But I’m starting to get impatient too, don’t worry.”

His hand leaves your throat. All the blood comes shooting back, an intense clarity that leaves you gasping. You only notice that he has taken his shirt off when he leans back down towards you, reaching for the hem of your own t-shirt. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes, that you answer with a quick nod. Then he finally pulls your shirt up, making sure that his fingertips travel over your skin along with it, showering you in goosebumps.

He pulls the fabric off of you and you reach for him, fingers connecting to the smooth skin of his chest. You let your hands run down his stomach when he leans down to kiss you, trailing along the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitches when your fingers dip into his boxers, but he reaches down to stop you.

“Nu-uh. You first.”

He sits back on his heels and pulls on your leggings, throwing the piece of clothing behind him absentmindedly. You’re in front of him only in your underwear now, nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of your sports bra.

“You’re fucking hot, you know that?”, he mumbles, and you feel your cheeks heat up before he grabs the hem of your panties and pulls. Cool air hits your core, and only then do you realise how embarrassingly wet you are already. He looks down at you and curses under his breath.

“Fuck, look at you. Already soaked, and just for me?”

You nod, “only you”, breath hitching as he lazily moves two fingers all the way up your entrance until they are pressing into your clit. You start moving against him on instinct, eyes rolling back as you finally get some relief. He lets you, for a few seconds, before pinning your hips down to the sofa. Your eyes snap open, a desperate whine leaving your lips.

“Hush, baby. I’m gonna take care of you”, he mumbles, before leaning down and licking a broad stripe along the way his fingers just did.

It makes you absolutely lose your mind. Your hips buck up and you moan loudly, hands flying into his hair, just to grab onto something, anything, to keep you grounded. The tip of his tongue dips into your entrance and your head tips back with a groan. His left hand holds you steady, before he dives in again, nose brushing past your clit with every movement. Your thighs tremble, you’re already way too close even though he barely started yet. You feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Channie, please …”, you sigh, and he looks up at you, tongue not leaving your body.

“Hm?”

The sound reverberates against your sensitive skin, and you shudder, looking down at him. Fuck, he looks good. Lower part of his face covered in your slick, curls sticking to his forehead, he laps at you like a starved man.

“Can you – fuck, Channie, fingers, please – “, is all you manage to choke out, but he has mercy on you.

You feel the tip of his finger tease your entrance and you clench in anticipation, before he pushes in and you close your eyes again, a desperate moan leaving your lips. He curls his finger upwards, and you know he’s close, so, so close to where you need him, but he isn’t quite there yet. You can feel the high approaching, can almost reach for it.

“More, please”, you press out, brows furrowed, and he adds a second fingers, curls up, and hits the spot. You swear you see stars for a second. Your mouth falls open, a string of incoherent words tumbling over your lips, and you feel him smile against you. It almost sends you over the edge on its own.

“Found it, hm?”, he mumbles, and you hum, every muscle in your body tensed.

“Look at me”, he whispers.

You somehow manage to lift your head, moaning at the sight before you. He dives down again, holding eye contact and your fingers pull on his hair, coaxing the sweetest moans from him. He curls his fingers up once, twice, and you snap. Your high washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before and he flattens his tongue against you, helping you ride out your orgasm with long strokes. Once you finally stop clenching around his fingers, he slowly removes them, making sure not to hurt you. You still wince at the sudden emptiness. Finally, you untangle your fingers from his hair.

He climbs up until he is face to face with you and you blink until he’s in focus again. He smirks at your blissful expression. “D’you have fun?”

You decide to tease him. “Eh.” You shrug. “Was fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” He stares at you in disbelief. “Clenched around me like you were holding on for dear life, but you say it was fine?” You chuckle, but the determination in his face sends shivers down your spine.

“Okay. You know what, I’ve had enough of your attitude.”

He sits up on his heels, before getting up and taking off his sweatpants, pulling his boxers off right with them. He reaches down for his pocket and pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth, and rolling it over his cock, before he kneels back down, slowly pumping himself.

“Let’s see what you say after I’m done with you.”

His lips crash into yours and at the same time, you feel his fingers on your clit. You hiss at the slight overstimulation, but pull him closer by the neck, moaning into his mouth. You can still taste yourself on his tongue and it makes your stomach flutter. Then you feel his tip push against your entrance. He pulls away to check in with you, but you pull him back in.

“Please, Chan, need you”, you pant against his lips, and he groans, before pushing into you.

It's an entirely different sensation from his fingers and both of you moan at the same time, before he bottoms out and stills, fighting for his composure. He begins moving ever so slowly and you appreciate that he wants to be careful, but something inside you wants him to lose control. You lean up and drag your teeth across the shell of his ear, drag your fingernails across his back. He shivers, his arms buckling and his forehead falling onto your shoulder. His pace picks up and you kiss him on his pulse point, before whispering into his ear, “fuck me like you mean it.”

He stills. You let yourself fall back down grab one of his hands, leading him towards your throat. “Please.”

A smirk curls up the corners of his mouth. “I knew you could use your words.”

He pulls out almost completely before he bottoms out again and closes his fingers around your throat. Everything around him becomes hazy, he’s the only thing in your mind, the only thing you see. His hips snap against yours at a relentless pace and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, instinctively lifting one of your legs. He grabs it and pushes it up against your chest, changing the angle, and finally hits that spot again. Your eyes roll back, moans tumbling from your open mouth as he keeps slamming into you, before slightly adjusting his position. His hand leaves your throat, and your mind refocuses, his thumb pressing against your lips which you open oh so willingly, sucking his thumb into your mouth.

“Fuckin hell”, he groans, rhythm turning sloppy as he watches your lips wrap around his finger. “Such a good fucking girl, hm?”

He pulls his thumb out with a pop and you whine, but he hushes you. “Impatient”, he tsks, before rolling the pad of his thumb over your clit. Fuck, you’re still so goddamn sensitive. His hips snap against yours again and then he hits the spot inside you.

“’M close”, you moan, and he nods.

“Come on, let go for me, baby”, he answers, breathless, and it pushes you over the edge. When you thought your first orgasm was intense, it was nothing against this one. You feel so fucking full of him, he feels so right against you, and then his finger leaves your clit, and he falls towards you, hands on each side of your body, riding out his own high. His arms are shaking from the strain, and you push up to press your lips against his. He moves inside you and you shiver before he gives you one last peck and carefully pulls out.

You fall back against the cushion. He removes the condom, before crawling back up and snuggling against you, propped up on his elbows on each side of your face. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

It makes you blush, and you turn your head to the side, suddenly confronted with what just happened. With whom it just happened. He sees the change in your expression immediately.

“Hey, look at me.”

You obey him and see the softest smile on his face, before he leans down and gently presses a kiss to your lips.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”

His fingers are playing with your hair, eyes intently fixed on you. You sigh.

“I – don’t know what this means. To you.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, “but you know what it means to you?”

Your heart lurches in your chest and resumes beating at a much quicker pace because yes, you do, and you hate having to admit it. You don’t know if you should admit it.

He kisses you again, longer this time. When your lips separate, there’s this softness in his eyes again. “Tell me what it means to you. Please.”

This is the truly dangerous part. Anyone can have meaningless sex, but it wasn’t meaningless, at least not to you. This is where the consequences come in. This is where you have to admit that you just ruined a perfectly fine friendship. You take a deep breath. You trust him. If anyone would be able to uphold a friendship after this, it would be Chan. So you steel yourself, and look into his eyes again.

“I like you a bit more than I originally planned to”, you whisper, not daring to speak up.

You’re close enough that you can feel his heartbeat. It quickens after he processed what you said, but where you expect him to tense up and leave, he leans down to kiss you again. You’re completely dumbfounded.

He holds your face and you close your eyes, simply enjoying the gentle pressure of his lips against yours. When he breaks the kiss, you steel yourself again. Your breath hitches when you open your eyes, his own swimming with emotion.

“I’m so glad you said that”, he whispers, thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I do, too. And I was so scared this would be a one-time thing for you. I don’t think I could have lived with that.”

There are tears pricking in the corner of your eyes for the third time tonight, only this time you allow them. He leans his forehead against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck and then you stay like this, just breathing each other in. And you feel like your sleepless nights might have just become a bit easier to bear.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids #skz smut #chan smut #bang chan fluff #chan fluff

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amor1st03 · 8 months

Text

Change | Kim Seungmin

Seungmin x fem!reader

frenemies(?) to lovers, librarian au, college/university au

warnings: Y/N misunderstands Seungmin for a little bit and judges him for this, swearing, drinking, skz being fuckboys, I think that's it let me know if I missed anything

word count: 4.9k

in which: Seungmin's reputation had you believing all he ever did was flirt with people around school. I mean, you witnessed it yourself at your uni's library where you both worked. But could it be possible that what you thought was wrong all along?

@icouldntcareless22

Skz masterlist

The constant stream of swooning girls bothered you more than you would like to admit.

It’s not that you were jealous. You weren’t jealous. You were annoyed.

Your job at your uni’s library had been a peaceful one until a certain someone had to disturb the peace.

Kim Seungmin.

Or as one girl in your class had told you, one of the university's most eligible bachelors. You were quick to correct this to one of the most attractive fuckboys.

Him and his seven best friends were known around campus for their good looks and charm. You heard many stories regarding each of their latest hookups.

Now, you had nothing wrong with people sleeping around, that’s what loads of people did at uni right? What you did have a problem was people being led on. You had seen quite a few people crying over being rejected by one of the guys after they thought they had been someone special to them.

There were only few who were able to resist their charm. You being one of them.

You had no interest in a quick one night stand. You wanted something that meant something. Something real.

Just because Kim Seungmin looked so good while leaning on the counter talking to the girls did not mean you were going to fall for his antics.

You rolled your eyes as one of the girls twirled her hair and fluttered her eyes before looking away. When the girls had finally left, you called over to him.

“Now that you’re done flirting can you put these back on the shelves.” You motioned your head in the direction of the cart full of books, not looking up from the computer you were using.

“I wasn’t flirting.” You look up at him, raising your eyebrows.

“Sure. Just go and put those back.” Without another word he took the cart and headed for the shelves. You watched as he left before turning back to your work.

“Is Seungmin here?” You looked up from the computer to see Chan.

“Hello to you too, Christopher.”

“Damn, English government name and everything.” He smiled at you. Chan was the only one of the eight guys, besides Seungmin, you spoke to. Last year, he had come to the library to talk to Seungmin when he had found you. He had asked you out to which you politely declined. He had been taken aback, it had been a long time since someone had rejected him. He had been surprised by you and, although he never asked you out again, the two of you formed a friendship.

“Seungmin’s here, he’s just putting some books back.”

“Well I was just gonna tell him that on Friday I’m having a party at my place. Actually, why don’t you come too? It’s been a while since you’ve come to one of my parties.”

“I’ll think about it. And I’ll tell him too.”

“Alright, thanks. I hope to see you there.” Chan left and not long after Seungmin returned with the empty cart.

“You just missed Chan. He told me to tell you he’s having a party at his on Friday.”

“Okay, cool.” You gave him a little nod before turning away to continue your work. “Hey, um, Y/N, would you, maybe, wanna come to the party?”

“Chan already invited me.”

“Oh, alright.”

“Anyway, I’m gonna clock out now, my shift’s over, but I’m gonna stick around to study for a little while. I swear, if I catch you flirting with all the girls that come to check out a book instead of working, I’ll kill you.”

“I already told you I don’t flirt with them!”

***

Your presence bothered Seungmin. Simply because when you were around he found it so difficult to draw himself away from you.

Like now, for example. You weren't doing anything significant. You weren't bringing any attention to yourself in any way. You were just sitting at a desk in the library, studying. But Seungmin found his gaze fixed on you. While waiting for someone to check out or return a book he was sitting behind the counter, chin resting on hand, analysing you.

He knew that there was some strange tension between the two of you. You seemed quite cold to him despite his advances to get to know you better. And yet, this did not deter him. If should have, he often told himself, because he was certain that you couldn't stand to be around him but none of that changed his feelings.

When you were with him, you were all he could see and when you weren't, you were all he could think about.

The two of you didn't share any classes but he saw you around campus. You were just as beautiful the first day he saw you.

He felt like an absolute idiot, gazing at you from a distance, too shy to approach you. He enjoyed just looking at you sometimes. Noticing all your silly little habits. The way you smiled. The first time he saw you laugh along with your friends he knew he was a goner.

There had been a few openings for a job at the campus library. At first, Seungmin wasn't interested until he found out that you had signed up for it. After having a crush on you for over a year without making a move he figured this would give him an opportunity.

The two of you had started out good, you were polite and nice. But there was still tension there.

He knew about the rumours that surrounded his friend group. There were so many that he stopped denying them after a while and just let people talk, whether what they were saying was true or not.

All he really cared about was that you didn't believe them. He wished that you wouldn't. So far his wish hadn't been granted, despite now much he insisted to you that he wasn't flirting with the girls that came to the counter.

People were slowly starting to leave the library as closing time neared. Finally, you and Seungmin were the only two people left.

You walked up to the counter to check out a few books. Your hand grazed Seungmin’s as he passed the books back to you and he swore his heart stopped for a moment.

“You need any help closing up?” You asked him.

“No, it’s alright, you can head off now.”

“Okay, see you later.”

“Bye. Get home safe!” He called after you as he mentally cursed himself for being too shy to ask you to stay a little while longer with him.

***

You knew you should have had a drink before the party. You felt so awkward as you looked around for someone you knew.

You continued to push your way through the crowd before you found a sofa in the corner where no one was sitting. You quickly claimed a seat and relaxed a little.

“Y/N, you made it!” A familiar voice shouted over to you. You looked in the direction that it came from and saw Chan approaching you. He sat down beside you, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. You could tell the drink in his hand was certainly not his first of the night.

“Yep, here I am.”

“It’s been so long since you last came to a party, I’ve missed having you around.”

“Well some of us actually have to study, Chan,” You joked.

“Ugh, you sound like Seungmin.”

“Really?” At the mention of Seungmin, your eyes found him in the crowd. He was nodding along to something a girl was telling him on the other side of the room.

“Yep.”

“He can’t care about studying that much. I swear I always see him flirting with girls. I mean, even now. Typical.”

“What? Seungmin flirting? I'd love to see that.”

“What are you talking about?”

"What are you talking about? Seungmin has never once flirted with anyone."

"But…you guys…your reputation. You guys are known for flirting."

"Yeah the rest of us, maybe, but not Seungmin. Those are just rumours about him because he's in our group."

"But I always see him with girls."

"Yeah they chase after him and he will talk to them to be polite but I've never seen him so much as kiss any of them."

"Oh…"

"Come on, enough talking, let's get you a drink." He jumped up from his seat and offered his hand to you. You took it and he pulled you up before he guided you to where the drinks were. You could've sworn you felt eyes on the back of your head as you walked. When you looked around, your eyes met Seungmin's. You suddenly felt extremely embarrassed under his gaze after learning you had misjudged him.

"You know what we should do?" Chan asked you once you reached the counter.

"What?"

"Shots!" You were unsure at first. "Come on, what do you think? It's been so long since you've been at a party."

You looked back to where Seungmin had been standing. You saw that he was now pushing his way through the crowd, towards you and Chan.

"Fuck it, I'm in."

***

The party was dying down with only a few people left. You never usually stayed this long but you were having so much fun that the time just flew by.

"Get home safely, alright?" Chan said as you were about to leave. He was leaning on the door for support.

"I'll be fine, Chan."

"I'll walk you home." Seungmin walked up to where you and Chan were standing in the doorway.

"Okay then, see you later guys," Chan said with a yawn before the two of you left.

The walk at first was silent. The two of you were enjoying the fresh night air. As you walked you found a small wall and feeling childish in your drunkenness you hopped onto it before walking along it. You wobbled slightly but felt Seungmin grab your arm to stop you from falling.

"Careful," He said softly.

"If you're so worried about me falling, why don't you just hold my hand."

"What?" He was a little shocked at your words. He hoped the darkness of the night prevented you from seeing the red tinge on his cheeks.

"Hold my hand. I thought you'd be used to that with all the flirting you do, except, I suppose I'm not so sure now that Chan told me the truth." He gently took your hand and helped you walk along the wall.

"The truth?"

"Yeah. That you're not like the rest of your friends. That you don't flirt with all those girls that chase after. Not that there's anything wrong if you do I just don't think it's right if the girls genuinely think there's something there and you're just looking for a quick one night stand. But, yeah, Chan told me you don't do that." Seungmin smiled to himself.

"You're very talkative when you're drunk."

"Is it annoying?" You stopped in your tracks.

"Not at all." You smiled down at him before continuing to walk.

"Seriously though, why don't you flirt with them. I mean, you have so many people chasing after you and not one of them sparks your interest? Why is that?"

"Because."

"Because is not an answer."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not. Come on, tell me Seungmin.*

"Okay, fine. It's because I've already got my eye on somebody. But don't bother asking who it is, I'm not telling."

"Okay. I won't ask." You neared the end of the wall as you thought of Seungmin's words. You weren't sure why they bothered you so much but you tried to brush them off. Once you reached the end of the wall you turned to him.

"Catch me."

"What? No, I'm not catching you." He laughed a little.

"Well, I'm going to jump off and if you don't catch me I'm just going to bump into you anyway."

"Y/N, I'm not going to catch you."

"Ready. 3…2…"

"Y/N."

"1!" You jumped and Seungmin was quick to throw his arms around your waist. Your arms came to rest over his shoulders. His hot breath hit your face as you realised how close your face was to his.

"I knew you'd catch me." He set you down on the ground with a soft smile. Had his smile always been that cute? "Alright, come on then, I'm ready to go home." You skipped off as Seungmin laughed to himself, shaking his head before running to catch up to you.

You made it back to your apartment and were struggling to get the key in the door. You felt Seungmin's hand rest on top of yours as he helped you with the key.

"Yay, home sweet home!" You smiled as the door opened.

"Alright then, I guess I'll head off now that you're home."

"Okay then, I'll see you soon. Message me when you get home safely."

"I will."

"And if anyone kidnaps you I'll hunt them down and beat their asses!"

"I'm sure you will." He laughed. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Night, Min!"

The little nickname had his heart racing a mile a minute for the rest of the night.

***

Seungmin noticed that things were less tense between the two of you after that night. The two of you were talking a lot more during your shifts at the library and if you finished at the same time, he would walk you home. You enjoyed spending time with each other and found you had actually become friends.

You continued to notice the stream of girls who came to see Seungmin. You knew now that he wasn't flirting back with them but something about them coming to see him still bugged you.

One time you were left at the counter while Seungmin went to stack the shelves when two girls approached you.

You greeted them as they placed some books on the counter, passing you their library cards.

"Is Seungmin here?" One of the girls asked.

"He's busy," You replied quickly.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Look, are you here to check out these books or not?" One girl rolled her eyes as you continued to check out the books before handing them back to the two girls. They turned and left without another word. You laughed in disbelief, shaking your head.

"What was all that about?" Seungmin asked as he returned.

"Oh, you saw that?"

"Yeah, I was hiding behind one of the shelves." You felt your cheeks heat up at his words.

"Well, I find it annoying that they're always here and I'm sure you do too."

"Yeah, I do sometimes."

"Then why don't you just reject their advances?"

"I try to. When they ask me out I turn them down but they keep coming back. And I don't wanna hurt anyone's feelings by being rude so I just try to be friendly. What else can I do?"

"Just be honest with them. Tell them you're not interested, that you're already interested in someone else. And, hey, maybe you should try asking out whoever that other person is? If you're with someone and happy they might take a hint."

"I can't ask out the girl I like."

"Oh so it's a girl. Okay, that narrows down my guesses a little bit."

"Don't try and guess who it is, I'm not telling you."

"Why not? I might be able to help more if I know who it is."

"Not telling."

"Okay, fine. How about this? Practice on me."

"Huh?"

"Go on practice asking me out. Stand over there, pretend I'm her, walk up to me and ask me out."

"This is stupid."

"I don't care. Just do it." With a reluctant sigh, Seungmin walked a few paces away before turning around to face you. He walked back towards you.

"Hey, uh, we should, like, go out sometime."

"No."

"What do you mean no? This isn't helping."

"That was terrible, you sound like Chan."

"Well it works for him."

"That's because he's all confidence and charm."

"Are you saying I have no charm?"

"No, you do but it's different. Chan's all…how do I put this? Chan's a fuckboy, in the nicest way possible. But you, you're caring and sweet and, honestly, a little nerdy."

"Hey!"

"Trust me, a lot of girls find that attractive. The point is, be yourself. Okay, try again." Seungmin repeated the process of walking away and turning back.

"Hey, um, look I don't normally do this because I'm not really sure how to, but the truth is, I really like you. And I would love it if sometime you would maybe wanna go out on a date with me?" His eyes held your gaze as he spoke and you almost forgot that he wasn't actually asking you out.

"Yes," You replied softly before coming to your senses. You cleared your throat. "That-that was perfect, I'm certain she'll say yes if you ask her like that." You backed away slightly, almost tripping over your own feet. "Okay, I'm just gonna go check all the desks, see if anyone's left anything out. You can stay here and man the counter, I'll be back soon." You quickly hurried away, mentally screaming at yourself.

***

You had lost count of the months that had passed since you Seungmin had become friends. Things had certainly changed between the two of you, more than you would like to admit.

You had started to notice how easy it was to get lost in his eyes and how soft his lips look. After a few months of becoming friends you realised something. You definitely had feelings for him.

A few months ago, you would've turned a date with Seungmin down with a scoff but now? Now, you would practically beg for one. You were honestly head over heels for him. He was so kind and funny. How could you ever have thought differently of him?

You buried these feelings deep down inside. Hoping Seungmin wouldn't notice the lingering stares.

You'd figured out what bugged you when the girls came to flirt with him. It was jealousy. You wanted him to look at you and only you. You wanted him to like you the way you liked him.

There were moments where you thought maybe he felt the same.

Like the moment when he was walking you home that one time. You stopped in front of your apartment building and turned to say goodbye. He reached his hand up to brush an eyelash off of your face. His hand lingered a moment longer than it probably should have and you thought maybe. Just maybe he feels the same.

Or the time that the two of you were meant to close up the library together. Everyone had left and the two of you were sitting together on the floor behind the counter. You were both laughing at something he said before you both looked at each other. You could have sworn that he was leaning in, but in the end, he turned his head away.

There were many moments like that. You just weren't sure how he felt. And you were at a constant war with yourself on whether or not you should confess to him.

You shook off the thought as you checked the peep hole a second time. No, he really was at your door.

You were laying in bed one night contemplating your confession when you heard a knock on your door. Surprised that someone could be at your apartment at this time of night you carefully tiptoed over to the door. You checked the peep hole to see it was the exact person you had been thinking of. For a split second you thought that you had been daydreaming about him so much that you were now hallucinating. Imagining that he was here.

You quickly unlocked the door. When Seungmin caught sight of your face a warm smile spread over his face. You noticed the flushed look on his face.

"Seungmin, what are you doing here so late?"

"Y/N!" He wrapped his arms around you and you stumbled back a little. You laughed as you wrapped your own arms around him.

"Have you been drinking?" You ask him.

"I was. How did you know? Who told you?" He pulled away to look at you but still held you close.

"A little birdie."

"You can talk to birds?" He asked in disbelief to which you laughed again.

"Yes. Anyway, why are you here, Seungmin?"

"Because I wanted to see you. I'm sorry it's so late but I missed you so much."

"It's okay. I missed you too." This made Seungmin smile.

"Okay, I don't want to disturb you anymore so I'll get off now, I just wanted to see you before I went home." He moved away from you, stumbling a little. You grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Yeah, I'm not letting you go home like this, come on, you can sleep here tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." You guided him to your room. He sat down before kicking off his shoes and getting under the covers.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to sleep in," You said to him after you had returned from getting him a glass of water.

"It's alright."

"What were you doing tonight, anyway? It's a Thursday night, we have classes tomorrow. Were you out with the guys?" You sat down on the edge of the bed looking at him. Your heart swelled at the way he looked into your eyes.

"Yeah, it was a random party and me and Chan were actually just talking about you. After that I knew that I needed to see you tonight, if not I knew I'd never be able to get to sleep, so I left the party and came here."

"You were talking about me?"

"Yeah, I talk about you a lot actually. Is that weird? I hope you don't find it weird."

"I don't. Well, as long as you tell people the nice stuff about me."

"Everything about you is nice."

"You're just saying that because you're drunk." You smiled softly.

"No, I'm saying it because I know it's true."

"Okay, well thank you. You should get some sleep now, you'll have an awful headache in the morning if not." You got up to leave, walking towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To go sleep on the sofa?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm letting you have my bed." You leant on the doorway to talk to him.

"You can't sleep on the sofa."

"I can. I'm telling you, you're having my bed tonight and I'll sleep on the sofa, it's fine."

"Okay and I'm trying to tell you that I want you to stay." You remained quiet, looking at him. Had you heard him correctly? "Please, will you stay?"

"Okay," You whispered before making your way over to the bed. You climbed under the sheets, lying next to him. The two of you were facing each other as he smiled at you.

All you could hear was your heart beat.

You swore it skipped a beat when you felt Seungmin softly reach out for your hand, taking it in his own. A bright smile spread across your face.

"I've dreamt of this."

"Of what?"

"Of lying here, having you smile at me like that."

"Seungmin," You whispered, unsure of what to say.

"I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" Your heart rate quickened as you waited for him to speak.

"Chan and I fell out once because of you. Well, we didn't really fall out. I was mad at him, he wasn't mad at me. And it's not your fault it happened. It's just, I told Chan not to ask you out and he did it anyway and I was so angry at him for it."

"Why did you tell him not to ask me out?"

"Well, I was scared you'd get hurt for one, and I didn't want that to happen. But the main reason is a bit more selfish. I didn't tell Chan this at first, if I had done he probably wouldn't have asked you out, but the reason I didn't want him doing so is because I wanted it to be me who did it. I admired you from afar. I've had feelings for you for the longest time and I was so scared that you'd be head over heels for someone like Chan instead of me."

"You know I don't like Chan like that."

"Do you like me like that?"

"You're drunk right now. I want you to make sure you are fully aware of what we're both saying. I'll tell you tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay. You don't hate me because of what I said, do you?" He whispered.

"I could never hate you."

"Good."

"Goodnight, Min."

"Goodnight, Y/N." He yawned before shutting his eyes.

When he had drifted off and you heard his soft snores, you leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on his forehead before settling down next to him.

***

Seungmin woke the next morning to an awful buzzing sound. He reached out beside him and felt the cold, empty space next to him. You weren't there. His heart dropped when he realised. The buzzing noise, he found, was coming from an alarm clock on your bedside cabinet. He reached over to stop it.

On the cabinet, he found you had also left him some water, painkillers and a note. He picked up the note to read it.

Sorry about the alarm, I set it so you'd have enough time to get home and get changed before your first class. Hope you're not too hungover. I've had to leave for my earlier classes. Feel free to make yourself some breakfast before you leave. I've left my spare set of keys on the kitchen counter so you can lock up. You can give them back to me today at the library. See you later.

After taking a few painkillers for his headache, Seungmin did as you instructed. He got up and got himself a bowl of cereal, washing up after himself because he didn't want to cause you any more trouble than he already had. Then he left, locking your door with the spare keys before heading home to change.

He eventually made it to his first class with only a few minutes to spare. He had considered not coming but he knew he should. In the end it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't shown because he couldn't remember a single thing from any of his classes that day. He was too focused on replaying last night to himself.

You hadn't told him how you felt, he was certain it meant you would reject him. He wasn't sure how he was going to face you. But sure enough, the end of his last class came and he headed for his shift at the library. He was in no rush to get there, taking the longest route he could.

"Hi," You greeted him once he had arrived.

"Hi," He replied, shyly. He was unsure whether to bring last night up or to wait for you to say something.

Before you had the chance to say something somebody came up to the counter to return some books. As you were helping them, Seungmin decided he would go to the storage room as he knew that the university had ordered some more books. He was feeling awkward now and wanted to avoid you and figured organising the books would be a good excuse.

As your shift continued, you were unable to find the right time to approach Seungmin. You decided it would be best to do it when you were closing up.

The time finally came when the last few students left. You and Seungmin were putting away the last of the books.

"I'm sorry I haven't said anything earlier about last night, I just haven't found the right time."

"It's okay. I'm just sorry last night ever happened."

"Don't say that." You put the last book on the shelf and turned to him.

"Why not?"

"Because you shouldn't ever regret being brave enough to tell someone how you feel. That is, if you really meant what you said last night. Did you?"

"Of course I did."

"Well, that's good then. I'm glad to see my feelings are reciprocated."

"Wait, what?" Seungmin asked, shocked at what he was heading. You laughed softly as his response.

"Seungmin," You said as you placed your hands on his face, smiling up at him. "I like you. So much. I could barely sleep last night after what you told me. My heart was racing every time I looked over at you."

"I can't believe this is real."

"Well, believe it because now that we've confessed, I expect a date."

"How about now? After we've closed up. We can do whatever you like."

"I don't care what we do as long as I'm with you." You smiled before leaning up towards his lips. He leaned down at the same time, meeting you halfway. The kiss blossomed between the two of you and you knew now how much everything had all changed. This was the start of something new between the two of you and you suddenly realised how much you loved change.

#kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fluff #skz seungmin #stray kids #skz #kpop #fanfiction #fanfic

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hoes4hoseok · 1 year

Text

drive

enhypen as 80's music :: jake as ‘drive’ by the cars

"you can't go on thinking nothing's wrong, but now, who's gonna drive you home tonight?"

pairing :: jake sim x gn!reader genres/au’s :: 80s college au, ex! childhood friend! jake, second chance romance, fluff and a sprinkle of angst at the beginning warnings :: mentions of drinking, mentions of cheating word count :: 1.2k author’s note :: coincidentally, i became obsessed with disney's new rom-com, prom pact, a few days after i started working on this. if you love 80's rom-coms you should def watch it, it was like fuel for me to finish this. anyways, i hope you enjoy! beta readers :: @hanniiesuckle17 and @skz-minchan-enthusiast !! tysm for your help :) soundtrack :: drive by the cars

you aren’t one to stay at a party after starting to cry. so instinctively, upon seeing your very drunk boyfriend with someone else on his lips, you bolted, knowing what was to come. struggling to see past the salty puddles forming in your eyes, you somehow pushed and shoved your way to the most secluded section of the party, at least in the middle of winter — the pool.

and, finally staring down at the illuminated glow of the chlorine-filled water with your legs crossed, you let the tears fall into your hands. the two of you had only been dating for six weeks — despite the fact that you had liked him for months before that. but it was good that you found out now instead of later. crying was the best way to bounce back from a breakup. it was shedding the grudges over your wasted time, of course, but mainly your misplaced trust. these were words of wisdom you had come up with on the spot to comfort yourself, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

after what felt like 20 minutes, your tears slowed to a stop. almost instantly, you became very aware of the temperature, your nose now cold as ice. to your relief, you had a couple of tissues in your jacket. you used them to wipe your tears and nose as you looked up, peering into the party through the sliding glass door. it was only 11 pm—the night was still young. but all you wanted to do was go home and be met with the warmth of your bed again. watch the vhs you rented for a chick flick he said was too “unrealistic”. but you had driven your ex-boyfriend’s car here, and you weren’t particularly in the mood for the hour-long trek that walking home would be. yet. you were going to make yourself ‘in the mood’ even if it took all night—because enduring a car ride from your ex or any of his friends in that overcrowded house party was out of the question.

“y/n?”

you looked up again upon hearing the familiar voice — it was jake — as in, your other ex-boyfriend jake. who you hadn’t seen in months.

he stood with his brows furrowed in concern, sliding the door shut behind him. “what are you doing out here?”

you managed to crack a slight smile as he walked around the pool. “nothing, it was just way too stuffy in there. i don’t love crowds, you know that. you can go back inside,”

“okay,” jake completely ignored your suggestion, lowering himself to the ground with his legs crossed just as you had. “then why were you crying?”

“no offense, but this is not a conversation i’d like to have with you,” you looked up at jake, eyelashes still wet from your tears.

“why, because we dated for two minutes in junior high, or because i’ve seen you cry countless times before?” jake wore an amused smile, shrugging while he continued. “suit yourself. i’m great at comforting people, though,”

“it was not two minutes, it was three weeks. and you’ve only seen me cry twice,” jake’s smile widened at your response, knowing you were warming up to him again. “my boyfriend was making out with someone else in there,”

“oh…” jake began, his voice softening, “that sucks. he’s the one who you went to prom with last year, right?”

“yeah,” you looked down at your hands, stuffing them into the pockets of your windbreaker. “we weren’t dating yet, though,”

“ah yes, i remember,” jake nodded, “my mom kept telling me how upset you were because he didn’t ask you out. you guys took a long time to make it official,”

“yeah, yeah, thanks for the recap,” you cupped your face between your hands, resting your elbows on your thighs. “i’m an idiot,”

“if this made you an idiot, half the planet would be one,” jake scoffed, “you liked him. it’s easy to get blindsided by people you have feelings for,”

“well, half the planet needs a reality check, then,” you exhaled deeply, “i know i did,”

“why do you insist on blaming yourself for something that was solely that jerk’s fault?” jake rolled his eyes as he leaned back on his palms, knowing you weren’t looking his way.

“i don’t blame myself for the fact that he cheated, i blame myself for not seeing that coming,” you gazed down at the motionless water. you weren’t sure what exactly was making this conversation so easy, but you figured it came down to jake catching you at the right time.

“if you’re going to take one thing away from tonight, i think it should be that now you know he isn’t worth any more of your time,” jake explained, “the past is past. and for the record, i think you’re an idiot for reasons that have nothing to do with your dating life,”

“you’re one to talk, jake sim,” you grinned involuntarily while you swung your head back to look at jake, who had started to laugh before you even reached your hands around to his torso to tickle him.

“sorry!” he put his hands up in defense.

“you better be,” you retorted, adjusting your seat to face him. “i’ll tell your mom if you keep that up,”

“that threat really lost its weight when we left high school, y/n,” jake shrugged, shaking his head jokingly. “you need a new source of leverage,”

“oh, don’t worry about me. i have plenty of leverage,” you reminded him, “i have a big supply in the box of photos i brought from home. it’s in the album called ‘jake’s mullet’,”

jake leaned in close to you, eyes widening, “you still have those?”

“...yes,” you confessed, “but no soul has seen them since you got rid of it — apart from me. it cheers me up when i’m feeling down,”

jake heaved a sigh, “well…i can’t complain about that. my roommates see your experimental hair from junior high every day,”

you tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i have that picture of you and my dog before we went to the spring fling together up in my room,” jake admitted, “next to the one of my family and me at graduation,”

“oh…” you started to mutter, your smile fading in thought.

it warmed your heart a little bit to hear that jake held onto those memories just as you had. it was nice to feel remembered. and not only as a second thought.

“before you can demand that i take it down — which is not happening until i take another one to replace it, by the way,” jake began, pushing himself up onto his feet by the hands, “let’s go, i’m freezing,”

he brushed his palms together to get rid of any poolside debris before extending his right hand for yours. “come on. don’t worry about that dirtbag, but he can figure his ride out on his own,”

you had forgotten about said dirtbag for about five minutes. those were the best five minutes you had in a long time. clutching to jake’s hand (which was somehow still warm), you stood up. you found yourselves only inches apart, your gazes meeting in a manner that took you back to the night of the spring fling. he had only grown more handsome in the years since, from his jawline to his impeccable hair, but that wouldn’t have mattered to you. you thought he was gorgeous back then too, embarrassing mullet and all.

“so, what do you say?” jake asked, “can i drive you home?”

enhypen as 80s music series ☆ masterlist

#hoes4hoseok #piper's en- as 80s music 🎸#jake 😚#jake sim #sim jaeyoon #jake sim fluff #enhypen #enhypen fluff #jake sim x you #jake sim x reader #jake sim x y/n #jake enhypen #sim jaeyoon imagines #jake sim imagines #sim jaeyoon fluff #enhypen jake #enhypen imagines #enhypen ff #enhypen x reader

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moonlightndaydreams · 7 months

Text

Forbidden (A SKZ Family Secret) Part 5 of 8

Read Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 2.5 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8

Fem reader // Han Jisung // female Aunty Lina (Lino) // Hyuna (Hyunjin) // Suengmin

You are the nanny/housekeeper for Han and Hyuna (Hyunjin), helping take care of their two sons and keeping daily life in order. But what happens when Han and his Sister-in-law Lina take an extra liking to you, and you are caught up in a secret that you never could have imagined?

Chapter Summary: Your pregnancy is moving along. You spend some time with just Lina, and Hyuna paints your portrait.

Writer's Note: In this chapter the MC/reader's pregnancy spans from around 24 weeks to 32 weeks, if you were wanting to follow the progress. We're going to have some F/F smut, Lina thinks she has a pregnancy kink, and Hyuna shares another secret.

I've also been writing this late at night when I'm meant to be asleep and so I know when I re-read this later there will be parts I wish I wrote better. But I need to get this story out of my head.

Word Count: 2.4k (part 5) there will be more parts to come.

A few things to note before you jump in (as this might not be your cup of tea): * Hyunjin (aka Hyuna) and Lino (aka Lina) are female characters in this story (and one of them will be involved in sex). * There is cheating on partners. * There is manipulation and abuse of authority. * Female reader is an adult (in case you were worried)

Warnings: NSFW // Female Lee Minho // Female Hyunjin // cheating on partners // emotional turmoil // unprotected sex // pet names // sub dom undertones // pregnancy // mentions of adoption // breeding kink // squirting // female x female sex // oral sex//

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You had been watching how Han interacted with his children since the day you arrived there. There was something really attractive about a man caring for his offspring. But once you were pregnant you tried not to pay as much attention to it. It hurt to see him being a dad to them, knowing it wouldn’t be the same with your baby.

But now you couldn’t stop watching him. The way he’d scoop up Chan and play zooming him around the room, to the way he’d lecture Binnie about homework and tidying his room. He made such a good father. You couldn’t believe you were caught up in another lie. Oh why did Hyuna have to tell you he wasn’t their actual father? Now you were keeping secrets from Han as well. But it wasn’t your secret to tell.

Maybe it didn’t really matter? Han loved the boys and they loved him. He was their Dad even if he wasn’t biologically their father. Seungmin, if he really wanted to, could’ve claimed them, surely? “It’s killing him.” Hyuna’s words echoed in your mind. You told yourself to Just focus on yourself and the pregnancy and your last few months pretending to be a family with Han and Lina.

You were beginning to feel your baby move more and more inside of you as she grew bigger and stronger. It was a strange feeling, but it made you smile. You had a little human being wriggling in there, and you tried to store the feeling in your memory bank for when you looked back on this for years to come.

As far as Han and Lina knew, Hyuna and Seungmin were under the impression you got pregnant to a guy you went on a few dates with, which was what you were originally going to tell them anyway. Another fucking lie to add to the the growing pile.

Hyuna gave you your first pregnancy photo shoot, setting you up by a window to get the perfect natural light. You bought a gorgeous robe that draped over your growing curves just nicely, and blow dried your hair in soft curls that cascaded around your shoulders. She wanted to create a nice photo album for you that you could look back on and remember this special, intimate time that you and your baby shared. You were starting to see Hyuna as more of a Mother figure than a boss. You were grateful for her support and generosity, and you felt cared for when you were with her.

Your energy returned as you headed into the second half of your second trimester. Your nannying and housekeeping duties were less draining as long as you had an afternoon nap when Channie did. Your hormones were going wild and you had never felt so horny in your entire life. It was lucky you had two lovers to be honest, because you would have worn them out by now. Han and Lina loved it. They worshiped your beautiful, changing pregnant body, making love or fucking you depending on what mood you were in.

“Lina?” You purred. You had her pinned to her bed. Suengmin was at a work function that evening and you and Lina took the opportunity to spend some time together, just the two of you.

“What is it kitten? She grinned looking up at your desperate face.

“I’ve got cravings?” you pouted.

“Oh, I can make you something. What do you-”

You put a finger to her mouth to shush her and shook your head. “You’ve already got what I’m craving…right...” You traced your finger down her chest pausing at her breast. “here.”

Lina blushed. “Oh. Is that right, kitten?” she said as you took your clothes off. You loved being naked lately, and you knew Lina loved you naked too. Her eyes would light up as they drank you in.

You grinned. “I wanna suck Aunty Lina’s nipples.” You whispered tugging her shirt up. She sat up, letting your pull her top off and nestled back onto the bed, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

“No bra.” You clicked your tongue. “You’ve got the sexiest tits, you know that right?” Your hungry eyes were firmly on Lina’s pretty pink nipple. “This little kitten is dying to taste you.” You lowered your mouth to her breast, licking the nipple softly, just teasing. Then you took it fully into your mouth, slowly, gently sucking until you felt it grow hard against your tongue. You lifted off with a pop and looked up at Lina through your lashes, then sank back down onto her nipple. Your other hand found her other breast, rubbing your thumb over the nipple as you squeezed the supple flesh. Lina moaned softly. Her breath became heavier, and so did yours. Lina’s tits made you so fucking wet you tried to grind against her leg. As Lina responded to your touch, you responded in turn by increasing the intensity. You sucked a little harder, and grazed your teeth over her erect nipple. Your other hand squeezed the flesh of her breast more aggressively.

“Oh! Kitten!” her back arched up off the bed, pressing against you harder. Your mouth moved to her other breast now, giving that nipple the attention it deserved.

Lina was writhing underneath you. “Touch me. Please. Fill me up with your fingers.” She plead. You leaned up and found her lips, kissing her messily. She moaned into your mouth and you swore you almost came on the spot. Without breaking the kiss, you shimmied her shorts and panties off, and slid your hand down her body and over her stomach, continuing until your fingers found her pussy. God she felt heavenly. She was so pretty and so perfect when she was aroused.

“Oh dear! Lina!” You broke the kiss shocked. She looked at you wide eyed. “You’re fucking soaking.” You whispered as you slid your finger through her lips and brushed it over her clit.

“For you kitten.” She panted, rocking her hips to try and get more friction.

“So needy.” You smirked. “You wanna come all over my hand?” you purred. Lina moaned and nodded frantically. “Wanna come.” She echoed.

You locked eyes with hers and pushed two fingers into her soaking cunt. You groaned at how warm and tight she felt. “Fuck I wish I had a cock right now.” You sighed. “I envy Han getting to fill you up and stretch you out far more than my fingers ever could.”

“I love your fingers, kitten. You know how to find that sweet spot in record time.” She moaned.

“Oh you mean this spot?” you smirked digging into the spongy wall with your fingers.

“Oh… fuck…” she choked. “God you’re going to make me come too fast.” But it only spurred you on. You relentlessly pushed against the spot, using your other hand to rub her clitoris. She begged you to stop, but she didn’t use her safe word so you knew she really wanted you to keep going. You could tell her climax was building rapidly by the sheen of sweat on her body and her flushed chest and cheeks, and they way her breath became shallow. You pushed in a third finger and she moaned at being stretched just that little bit more.

“Put in four… please! Stretch me.” She sobbed. Who were you to deny such a desperate plea. You pulled out your fingers only to return with all four digits, again aiming right into her g-spot. She was flailing around, squeezing her eyes closed, rocking her hips, arching off the bed. You didn’t ease up. Her cunt was soaking your fingers, her creamy arousal gathering at your knuckles. You wished you had more hands so you could fondle her breasts at the same time or caress her body. But you weren’t about to change what you were doing, she was almost there, about to burst, and you couldn’t wait to watch it happen.

“I’m…fuck…I’m…fuuuckkk!” she threw her head back and screamed as she reached her climax, her cunt gripping your hand so fucking tight you thought your fingers would lose circulation. At the same time a clear, warm liquid coated your hand and ran down onto the bed. Lina had squirted and it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You quickly licked up as much of her juices as you could while you worked her through what seemed to be a very long, very intense orgasm.

Eventually, Lina’s body stilled as she came down and she fell silent save for some panting while she caught her breath. You crawled up to lay on your side next to her and kissed her again.

She looked at you with her freshly fucked pink cheeks and a stupid-ass grin. “I wanna take care of you now, kitten. I bet your soaking wet. Let me check.” She propped up some pillows and laid you back against them so you were comfortable.

She took her time kissing, sucking and caressing your breasts. “Fuck these are getting so big and full… grrr.” She squeezed a breast making it wobble underneath her grip. “Your pregnant body turns me on so much. Do your think that means I have a pregnancy kink?” she asked. You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe?” you laughed “But whatever it is I like it.”

She continued touching your body and kissing your swollen belly, and eventually knelt between your legs. She spread your thighs wide open with her hands and bit her lip as she gazed directly at your pussy. She brought her thumb to your lips and ran it up an down your folds. “I love how puffy and pink your lips are. So inviting. I just want to worship you kitten.” She made you feel like an actual goddess.

Lina repositioned herself so that she could bury her face against your pussy. She wrapped her arms around your thighs to keep you still as she slowly and delicately used her lips, her mouth, her tongue to make love to you. If felt like she was going for hours, taking her time, dragging out your pleasure. She’d dip her tongue into you while she brought a thumb to your clit, then she’d swap, plunging her fingers deep inside you while her tongue worked on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Just like that, Lina. Yes.” You whimpered. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, indulging in this beautiful, erotic moment. Your orgasm built slowly, just as Lina had intended, and when you came it was euphoric. Your entire body tingled with electricity and a warmth spread through your veins as you floated away. You felt content. You felt happy. You felt like you were where you belonged.

----------------------------------------

You entered Hyuna’s bedroom wearing just your robe and a simple pair of black briefs. She’d already set up her easel and had a little table set up with all her paints and brushes. It was the day you were getting your portrait painted. You were thirty two weeks pregnant now and your belly was beautiful and full, but not so full you that you looked uncomfortable. It was the perfect time for Hyuna to paint you and she’d been counting down the weeks for this moment. She’d made space for you to stand by her bedroom window, having moved her low armchair, the one Han fucked you for the first time on, out of the way.

“Petal, before we start I just wanted to show you something. Come here. Sit.” She invited you to sit by her on the bed, holding a thick sketchbook in her hands.

“I’ve never shown anyone this before. Not even Seungmin.” You sat down beside her, nervous of what she was about to show you. With shaky hands Hyuna opened the book to show a sketch of a young couple sitting on a park bench, holding ice-creams and laughing. Hyuna and Seungmin. Hyuna turned the pages to reveal more images of the couple. Young and in love. Doing all the things couples do, like picnics and dancing, smiling and holding each other close.

“This is you and Seungmin? You drew these?” you gasped.

Hyuna nodded. “We used to pretend we were seeing friends, but really we’d be spending time together.” She traced her finger over the page as she recalled the memory. “This is when we talked about getting married.” She pointed to a sketch of the pair sitting under the stars, Suengmin reclined back and Hyuna tucked up against his side in an embrace. It was heartbreaking seeing Hyuna’s memories etched into the paper.

She flicked through several more pages before stopping at a page that showed a heavily pregnant Hyuna looking down at her stomach, smiling. Two sets of hands were resting on her belly. One pair were her own, the other were Seungmin’s. He was standing behind her, arms wrapped around middle, his chin resting on her shoulder. He had the happiest expression you had ever seen.

As Hyuna turned the pages, the sketches of Hyuna and Seungmin tuned into images of Hyuna, Seungmin and Changbin. Seungmin holding a baby. Seungmin carrying a toddler. Seungmin holding a boy up in the their smiling and laughing. It kept going and until one boy turned into two.

You looked at Hyuna who’s eyes were filled with sorrow. This book represented the life she should have had. It was full of memories that never happened, or if they did happen, were secret, never to be spoken about or acknowledged.

“Why…why are you showing me this?” you asked perplexed.

“Because, petal, I’ve always craved to share this with someone. It hurts more as time passes,” She placed her hand on yours and squeezed it. “But, I also needed you to know what happens when you don’t live your truth. The sadness, the regret, the resentment, the lies. Like I said before, it eats at you.”

“You would have made a perfect couple.” You said looking down at the page.

Hyuna scoffed. “Yeah, would have, but didn’t get to. Not in real life.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and sighed, shaking away the sadness. “Now. Let’s start your portrait.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to paint this for you.”

While you stood posed for Hyuna, you reflected on what she’d just shown you. Every single person in this family was hurting. No one was living the life they were meant to. Everyone was keeping their truth hidden. No one was happy. Now you were caught up in this big mess too, even adding to it. Should you just continue to let everything pan out on the trajectory it was already on, keeping up the façade, or was Lina trying to remind you that you you could choose differently?

Read Part 6

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Writer's Note: The Hyuna/Seungmin backstory is really heartbreaking. I know I didn't do the scene justice, not by a long shot, but I hope you got the idea I was trying to convey? Bittersweet nostalgia, really hits my INFP heart.

Coming up, there are two more smut scenes I am itching to write and share before shit hits the fan and a baby comes.

See you soon my loves.

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@lyramundana @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @queenmea604 @noellllslut

@leeknowsthigh @chlodavids @antoniorhinothethird @bangtanmix73 @linocvp1d @sunshinesquokka

#skz family smut #skz fanfic #lee know smut #han jisung smut #female lino #female lee know #female hyunjin #aunty lina #dad han #sorsha writes

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blossomwritesthings · 9 months

Text

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 2.6k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: I wanted to get this out like, last week... but then life hit and adult responsibilities came along so this is where we're at now. 💀 i'm planning on having this be about 8-10 parts, so we're almost halfway through this little series of mine~ 😖 anyways, go vote for skz on the vmas, and stream superbowl jpn ver!!!! also, I've been working on this one minho smut piece for the past week and... it might get released tmrw, but we'll see... just, get your panties ready, everyone!! 😃👍🏼

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The moment Felix pulled up to his ‘secret location,’ you turned over to look at him with wide eyes and a dropped mouth.

“Why are we here?” You asked as you watched him switch the car off and flash you a playful smirk.

“Thought it might help to make you feel better… sweets always do that for me, at least.” He shrugged nonchalantly, like him bringing you to the ice cream shop of your childhood wasn’t that big of a deal. The Ice Cream Hut was located right on the popular local boardwalk of Bridgeport Bay and was open 24/7. Throughout your childhood, you and your friends had frequented the joint, going all summer long and tasting all the flavors of the rainbow. Felix was a creature of habit and had always chosen the mint chip for his flavor of the day, while you were always trying something new.

Over the years, you had stopped coming to the place. It held too many painful memories for you. And to be honest, you weren’t craving the sweet ice cream like you once were as a young child. You had tried to go into the place soon after Felix left for South Korea, but you ended up just running out and back into your car, in a fitful of tears as the painful memories of your last argument resurfaced.

As soon as you entered the Ice Cream Hut, the smell of freshly baked waffle cones and sugary ice cream filled your nose. “Damn, this place hasn’t changed one bit from how it was during our childhood,” you mused, as you took a peruse around the coolers that held the ice cream. There were well over thirty different flavors, but with it being so late at night, you two were the only ones there.

You turned to Felix and noticed him giving you the look. The one he always had whenever he was feeling super happy. It spread across his face, turning the corners of his mouth up and crinkling the edges of his eyes. He always lit up the entire room whenever he grinned like that.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow his way as you ordered a scoop of rocky road on a waffle cone.

Felix laughed heartily, like him taking you to an ice cream place at two in the morning on a Sunday was something the two of you did regularly. Well, it was something you two used to do. That is, until everything turned to shit and he moved away and your heart broke again and again with every day that passed. “I don’t know- I’m just happy to see that you’re feeling a little better.” He said, going ahead and ordering his usual - a scoop of mint chip on a sugar cone.

At the mention of the party from an hour before, and the way that everything had blown up in your face, you felt your heart start to throb with a dull ache. In an instant, a cool shiver was running down the length of your spine, and you were already finding a seat near the window of the shop to catch your breath.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it,” Felix started, reaching out to you from his seat across the small blue-stained wooden table and offering your free hand a gentle squeeze. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to… I totally understand if you want to forget about it all.”

You found yourself shaking your head, taking a tiny lick of your ice cream to try and quell the rising agony that was lifting from your chest and into your throat. You could feel it coating your cheeks in a healthy dose of crimson, coloring your ears in a pinky-blush. “No- no, it’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.”

Felix offered you a frown, and you could feel his eyes scan up and down your slumped form as you took a huge bite out of your cone. “You know… it’s okay to be upset about it. I think any sane person would,” you peered up at him through your blurry eyes. The bright lights of the ice cream shop made your head throb painfully and your eyes water from unshed tears. “Just, don’t hold anything inside, yeah? That shit- bottling it all up, isn’t good for you.”

You stayed silent after that, focusing on your ice cream for a little bit. Focusing on the view that was just outside the window. The ocean could be seen in the distance, but with the time of day, it just looked like a black mass of nothingness. It almost resembled what you were feeling at that moment - bleak and cold and deep, with so many different emotions swirling in your depths all at once.

“At the moment, I was mostly just angry,” you began hesitantly after the two of you had finished your ice cream and you were sitting back in your chair. He was right - the sweetness was helping to soothe the ache of everything. Sure, it was cloying on your tongue, but at least you were concentrating more on that than the resentment that you felt buried deep in your soul. “But now, I’m just really fucking upset. Like… why the fuck would he do such a thing? And I know it was just some stupid party game and he just meant it as a joke, but-”

“What if it... wasn’t a joke, Y/N?”

His question came out a little hushed, and as your eyes flitted up to stare at him, it felt like it was only the two of you in the shop at that moment. The employee that was standing behind the counter scrolling on his phone seemed to melt away, and all you could pay attention to was the way that he was gazing back at you.

Dark brows pulled together,

Jaw stretched tautly,

Lips pressed into a firm line,

Eyes sparkling with a myriad of concerns and worries.

“W-What?” You tripped over your words, hands fiddling with the hemline of your shirt to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind busy.

“I mean… what if that wasn’t a one-off thing? Not just a party game thing?” You could tell he was hesitant to continue, as he tilted his head to one side, gauging your reaction to his words by his eyes bouncing around your form. “I mean, what if it’s something that happens quite often?”

You gave him an incredulous chuckle, “What, like Chris is fucking my best friend?”

At his quietness, you turned rigid in your seat.

Spine going stiff as a board,

The blood rushing like icy heat through your veins,

Mind spinning out of control as you began to conjure up all kinds of ideas and wonderings.

“Felix- do you… do you know something that I don’t?” Your voice came out grave and quiet, as you felt your eyes widen in shock. You could feel your heart beat against your chest so fast, it felt like you were about to break all of your ribs from the impact.

He offered you a peculiar look. One that you couldn’t quite read all of the way. Almost like, he already had his answer for you, but knew you wouldn’t like it, so he was withholding the information. And one thing that you loathed the most in the world, was when people would hide shit from you.

At his silence, you spoke up again. “Felix, if you know something, you need to fucking tell me right now or I swear I’ll-”

He threw his hands up in the air in defeat, offering you a deep frown and running a few fingers through his messy blonde hair. Even though he hadn’t drunk at the party, it sure looked like it. With the messy cuff of his violet-purple graphic tee and flushed cheeks. It almost seemed like… he had been with someone at the party. Made out in the back corner of Jeongin’s living room and stuck his tongue down someone’s throat and you didn’t know how to feel about that. It was apparent from the flush of his cheeks - the swollenness around the corners of his lips.

Finally, he was speaking again. But his voice came out hushed like he was afraid someone you knew would walk in any minute. Someone like Chris. And hear his words. “It’s just that… I’ve noticed some things between him and Yeji. Like- the air is charged when they’re together and it was so fucking obvious tonight. And I don’t fucking know, it’s really-”

In the next breath, you were shooting up from your chair. Your movements were so fast that the metal scraped against the lime-green linoleum floor and made your eardrums ring with the screech for a second. But nothing else matter at that moment, because all you could focus on was what he was saying.

What Felix was saying.

What your ex-best friend who had abandoned you was trying to claim about your boyfriend.

“Are you saying that Chris is cheating on me?” You asked incredulously, voice already starting to rise. You could feel the red start to creep up the column of your neck again, painting your entire face in a deep shade of crimson. “Sure- what he did at the party was fucked up, but I don’t think he’s actually getting his dick wet with Yeji!”

Felix sat back in his chair, eyes widening by the second at your sudden change in demeanor. And if you were being truly honest, you were more hurt about his suggestion of Chris cheating on you than the stunt that your boyfriend had pulled at the party.

The fact that he was insinuating something so horrible made your stomach churn in a fit of rage, and already, you could feel the red seeping into the edges of your vision. Painting everything in a blush-colored light.

“I’m not saying that, Y/N,” Felix protested, standing up from his chair now as well and gazing at you with a desperate look on his face. One that read of hurt and confusion. “I’m just saying… I think maybe there’s more to him than you think you know about…”

You chuckled, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in your voice. Instead, it came out all gravelly and bitter. And then in the next beat, you were scooping up your handbag from the table and leveling him with a cold stare. “Yeah, well fuck this- I don’t need your bullshit of an excuse for a therapy session when all you’re trying to do is convince me that my boyfriend is sleeping with my best friend!” You shouted, your tone coming out so hard, it cut through the air like an icy dagger. Slicing through skin and heart and puncturing right into Felix.

You could tell it hurt like a bitch, too, from the way his brows crumpled together and the look in his eyes melted from one of confusion to pain. The light that you had found shining there the entire time you ate your ice cream together vanished. That happiness that you had seen flash across his face as soon as you stepped into the Ice Cream Hut was wiped away.In an instant, it drained out of him, leaving him to be a shell of the man that he had been not even five minutes earlier. “Y/N, I-”

But you didn’t afford him the chance to reply, as you flitted out of the ice cream shop’s front door as fast as you could. You set a hellish pace down the sidewalk, and with it being so late at night, the road right alongside you was void of any cars. It was silent, save for the sound of your breath as it fell in anxious patterns in front of you.

In, out,

In, out-

A firm, slender hand clamping down on your forearm sent you careening to a stop, and you heard a sharp intake of air sound from just behind you. For a moment, you stood there, motionless. You didn’t even know where you were going at first.

You just had to get away from it all.

From what he was insinuating,

And what his words were bringing up…

Hurts from the past,

Memories from the time when you had had such a big fight about your boyfriend Chris, that you had ended things with Felix permanently.

At least, you had thought that things were permanent.

Until Lee Felix showed up on the doorstep of Angel Waves two weeks before, all sun-kissed and bleach-blonde hair and muscular shoulders.

Everything hurt, and it had grown to be too much.

“Wait- Y/N. Please, just wait for a second.”

His voice came out in a wavering line, ghosting over your ears and forcing a violent shiver down your spine.

At that moment, you couldn’t even turn around to look at him. With your heart beating against your ribcage and your mind running a mile a minute, you could do nothing but stand there, arm still being held by one of his slender hands. The tears flowing down your cheeks left wet tracks in their wake. They clouded the corners of your vision, turning everything into a murky cobalt blue.

“You don’t have to say anything else, Felix,” you began, voice cracking under the pressure of it all, as you took in a shuddering breath and leveled your gaze onto the sidewalk ahead of you. Your parent’s house wasn’t too far away, which was always why you had frequented the ice cream shop as a kid. The walk wouldn’t be that bad. “I already know how you feel - about him, about me… about us. You already expressed your blatant disapproval when you left me in shambles years ago. I’m not expecting any better from you- I don’t need your approval of who I do and don’t date. So stay the fuck out of my life and my business and my relationship.”

The words were truly cruel and heartless.

That much, you knew.

And even though you had been seeing nothing but red earlier in the ice cream shop, now everything was turned to a dull, hollow ache.

You weren’t even that upset about Chris anymore.

You weren’t upset about his stupid display at the party, or even the fact that Felix had insinuated the relationship between your boyfriend and your best friend was anything more than cordial.

No, you were upset at Felix.

Right then, you wanted nothing more but to never see him again.

To never lay your eyes upon his shining, brilliant face,

Or hear his deep timbre voice,

Or remember all of the days you had spent together as kids - good and bad.

You wished you could go to sleep and wipe all memory of him.

Because maybe then, you wouldn’t feel so much agony.

It throbbed through you, shooting up the pit of your stomach, dancing in your veins, coursing across your eardrums, and pooling in your throat as a large lump and big, fat tears that didn’t stop.

Your legs were moving on their own accord, carrying you forward, toward’s your parent's house. Your arm still burned from where Felix had touched it - it felt seared from the sharp pull you took as you drew away from him.

And the worst part about it all?

Was that the entire time,

You wanted nothing more but for Felix to catch up to you,

To throw his arms around you and bury his delicate face in the crook between your shoulder and neck and sob his heart out as he told you how sorry he was.

But instead,

You were left with complete and utter silence.

No grabbing, no crying, no pleading.

And that’s what hurt the most.

To be continued...

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heeracha · 2 years

Text

## the disgusting scarf — l. heeseung

synopsis: lee heeseung, the bane of your existence, would always get you into trouble and you, of course, took revenge by getting him into trouble as well. when heeseung randomly gives you a puppy, sunghoon claims that maybe it's his way of proposing and maybe you can finally go around wearing heeseung's scarf. but you claim that you would rather go to azkaban than wear his disgusting scarf.

pairing: gryffindor!heeseung x fem!slytherin!reader

idols mentioned: all of enha, yeji (itzy), beomgyu (txt), seungmin, hyunjin and jisung (skz)

content/genre: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers, secret relationship, fluff <3 tsundere!reader

warning(s): swearing, bickering (lots of it), heeseung getting injured, falling off the broom, mentions of azkaban, tell me if i miss something !! unproofread

word count: 3.8k (oops)

note: this is very impulsive, i've been rewatching harry potter lately bcs idk,, i miss my childhood lmAO anyway !! i havent read the book in so long, so i must have forgotten some details, so if i got a detail wrong im sorry !!

As Professor Snape talked in front of the classroom about the potion that the class is going to brew, Heeseung’s cauldron suddenly falls to the ground, making a loud noise. Heeseung’s jaw drops as he watches it roll around, when he suddenly hears his teacher speak. “Mr. Lee, are you just going to watch your cauldron roll around until it stops or are you going to pick it up?”

“Sorry, sir.” Heeseung mumbles as he bends down to grab his cauldron.

“Five points will be taken from Gryffindor.” Snape announces and Heeseung immediately stands straight, eyes widening as he puts his cauldron back on its place.

“Sir, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Heeseung defends. “I wasn’t even touching it.”

“And that’s for not being too careful, Mr. Lee.” Snape says as Heeseung frowns. His eyes go around the classroom, landing on you. You were looking at him, watching the scene unfold. When nothing is said anymore, you turn your head to your book as you read the lesson. “Who knows what else you could have broken?” Snape adds and you look at your teacher as he scowls at Heeseung.

Snape turns around to go back to his discussion and then, you smirk. You turn your head to Heeseung, raising your eyebrows as you properly put your wand back in your robe. Heeseung shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he scowls through the entire class, cheek resting on his palm.

It had always been like that with the two of you. Ever since your first year, you always hated Heeseung and he felt the exact same towards you. Then in your second year, Heeseung accidentally dodge a bludger and sent it straight to one of the teachers’ office. While you didn’t know what was going on, you had a bat on hand as well when Heeseung let go of his. Then suddenly, the professor went to you and started scolding you while you were still confused. You were given a month’s detention and ten points out of you, but of course, you wanted to have revenge. So you pulled a prank on one of the teachers and framed Heeseung on it, causing him to get the same punishment. Ever since then, you two would always have each other getting in trouble.

“Jay, come on.” Heeseung turns to his friend who shakes his head as they get out of the classroom. “Please, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give you 24 hours to let you do anything you want.”

Jay huffs. “Seriously, Heeseung, this thing with you and Y/L/N is getting silly. It was silly from the very start, but we’re 6th years now!” Jay says as they walk towards their common room. “Even sillier because you act like you hate her when you look at her as if she made the stars and moon.”

Heeseung immediately jabs his elbow on Jay’s side, causing the poor boy to groan. “Great way to convince me!” Jay says, shaking his head as they get to the common room. Heeseung says the password as the Fat Lady opens the door for them.

“Please, Jay?” Heeseung says and Jay sighs. “Last one and I’ll stop.”

“And if your plan goes to shit? What the hell are you going to do with me?” Jay asks.

“Who said I’ll do it? We’re going to get Jake.” Heeseung says with a grin to which Jay groans.

With Jake sighing as he follows Heeseung out of the great hall, he speaks up. “I swear to Merlin, Heeseung. If we get into detention because of this, I’m hexing your ass.”

Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. Jake is a Ravenclaw, but somehow Jake is always with the two Gryffindors. As Heeseung turns to the left, out of the great hall, he is met by you with Sunghoon right beside you. Perfect timing. You stop, preventing yourself from running against the tall guy.

“Hey, I was looking for you.” Heeseung says and you only look at him.

“The hell do you want?” You said and Heeseung holds his hands out, holding a small puppy. “The hell am I going to do with that?”

“Maybe it’s a new way of proposing?” Sunghoon suggests and you turn your head to him, questioning his response. “And then, I don’t know, you two would finally get together and you would go around wearing his house scarf.” Sunghoon teases, giggling to himself as he nudges you gently.

Jake was laughing lightly, holding his hand up to which Sunghoon claps with his. “Disgusting. I rather go to Azkaban than wear scarves from the other houses.” You dramatically say, looking at Heeseung. “Especially yours.” You say, pointing at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, it’s my peace offering.” Heeseung says, holding the cute dog.

“No, I have a cat and I don’t have anything to take care of a dog.” You say, moving away from him, but Heeseung blocks your way. “Get out of my way, Lee.” You say and Heeseung shakes his head. “Stop it!”

“No!” Heeseung says. “I am giving you a gift and you’re not accepting it. This is very offensive.”

“It would be more offensive if I punched your face. Get out of the way.” You say and he only shakes his head. You groan. “Would you leave me alone if I take it?”

“Yes.” Heeseung says, nodding and you grab the puppy out of his hands, carrying it gently as its two paws rests on your shoulder, the puppy’s head snuggling on your shoulder.

“He’s cute.” Sunghoon says, petting it and the puppy barks, biting Sunghoon’s finger. You smirk, looking at Sunghoon who pouts, massaging his finger.

“You deserve it.” You say as Jake and Heeseung chuckle. You move away from Heeseung who doesn’t stop you this time.

“No thank you? Seriously?” Heeseung says and you roll your eyes. “Professor, Y/L/N turned Jay into a dog.” He says as soon as he sees his teacher along the entrance of the great hall. You turn around with wide eyes.

“What?!” McGonagall says, looking at you.

“WHAT?!” You shout, looking at Heeseung who’s just pointing at you.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I know you two have some sort of rivalry with each other, but you did not have to turn Mr. Park into an animal.” McGonagall scolds.

“Professor, no. I didn’t—”

“Ten points from Slytherin and detention tonight.” McGonagall says. “Put Mr. Park down.”

In defeat, you put the “dog” down on the ground and McGonagall flicks her wand, the dog growing as Jay. McGonagall lightly glares at you as she walks past to enter the great hall. You hit Sunghoon’s arm, turning to him.

“Ow!”

“Why didn’t you defend me?” You say as Sunghoon rubs the spot you hit.

“I thought you didn’t want me to stop whatever this… thing you and Heeseung are doing!” Sunghoon defends. “And seriously, man, did you have to bite me?” He says, turning to Jay who just shrugs, smiling.

“I didn’t tell you to not help me get his ass in trouble!” You say and Sunghoon laughs sheepishly. You turn to Heeseung. “You are so going to regret this.” You say, walking away with Sunghoon following you as he says bye to the three boys.

“24 hours, Lee.” Jay reminds.

“Not tomorrow.” Heeseung says and Jay raises an eyebrow. “Any day but tomorrow.”

Jay sighs, glaring at Heeseung. He just knows he will never get the 24 hour deal.

“Hey,” you hear, causing you to turn around. Heeseung smiles, but still, you had a scowl on your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d get detention.”

“McGonagall thought I turned Park into a fucking dog, Lee. What did you expect? For her to give me some reward? Give me a hundred points?” You say and Heeseung chuckles. “I had you deducted five points and you got to deduct ten points from me and had me detention.”

“I’m sorry.” Heeseung says and you shake your head, shooing him away with your foot as you hug yourself. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m Y/N.” You say and Heeseung laughs. He comes closer, pulling you into a hug and you softly sigh, wrapping your own arms around his waist as you snuggle against him.

“I thought you’re mad at me?” Heeseung asks and you softly pinch his side to which he lightly jumps at. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He says, kissing your forehead. “Where’s your scarf?”

“I forgot to bring it.” You say and Heeseung pulls away as he removes his red and gold striped scarf, putting it over your neck. “You don’t have to, Seungie.” You say, shaking your head and he stops his actions, raising an eyebrow.

“Right, you'd rather go to Azkaban than wear my disgusting scarf.” Heeseung says and you close your eyes, breathing deeply which causes him to laugh loudly. He fixes the scarf around your neck. When he’s done, he grabs the front, pulling you to him as his lips catch your cold lips. You kiss back, Heeseung smiling against your lips.

Yeah, you two have been dating since last year. When your plan semi-failed, causing you and Heeseung to have detention together, you two went to the Forbidden Forest with one other kid. You two were partners, it led to Heeseung holding your hand with you trying to yank your hand off, but he pulls it to him, saying, “Listen here, Y/L/N. I’ve had feelings for you for the longest time and I’ve been dropping hints that I do. It’s time for you to tell me you like me back because I know you like me, too, okay?”

You being you, answered, “How sure are you? What if you’re wrong?”

“I just… know.”

“You know I hate admitting when someone’s right, you know that?” You asked to which he nodded. “I’ll make an exception just this one time.” You say as you pull him to kiss you. Then it began with you two sneaking around, but never did you stop getting each other in trouble.

He pulls away after a few beats, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s go to the Three Broomsticks. While our friends and mostly everyone are still in Honeydukes.” Heeseung says as you two walk through the snow.

“Ugh, you’re really going to make me walk around Hogsmeade with your disgusting scarf.” You say, holding his hand tightly as he gently pulls you with him.

“You say it’s disgusting as if you didn’t almost hex me when you saw Yeji wear it.” Heeseung says.

“If I wear Beomgyu’s would you be happy?”

“Whose girlfriend are you?” Heeseung says.

“Whose boyfriend are you?” You question back. Heeseung only chuckles, pulling you closer to him as you pass by a big tree.

Where Sunghoon was hiding. He goes around the tree, making sure neither of you see him. He watches the two of you walk away as you jokingly pinch his side to which Heeseung jumped on again. Heeseung yanks his hand away from you and you hug him from behind as he walks further away with you waddling behind him.

For a second, Sunghoon thought you two were going to fight until Heeseung hugged you. He thought he just mistook you from someone else, turns out it was you. The girl who said that Lee Heeseung is the bane of your existence. Turns out, he’s the love of your life. He couldn’t even believe his own ears when you called Heeseung ‘Seungie’.

So, when you two were out of sight, Sunghoon runs to Honeydukes as he calls Jake and Jay… and everyone in there.

“Good luck on the match, Y/L/N.” Heeseung says as he passes by where you and Sunghoon are sitting. “Hope you miss the hoops.”

“Hope I hit your face with the quaffle.” You answer.

“Hope you fall off.” He says.

“Hope you get hit by a bludger.” You say.

“Hope you—”

“OH MY GOD. SHUT UP!” You two get cut off when the head boy, Seungmin shouts.

“But she—”

“But he—”

“I DON’T CARE!” Seungmin says, glaring at the two of you. “BOTH OF YOU. SHUT IT.”

You look at Heeseung who looks at you as well. He winks and you raise your middle finger to him as he walks away. You drink your juice before your captain calls you for the team has to go prepare. When you stand up to go with your captain, Jake sits beside Sunghoon.

“I really don’t see it.” Jake says. “I mean, it could be seen they like each other, but them dating without anyone knocking some sense into them? Impossible.”

“I’m telling you!” Sunghoon said. “Y/N even called him ‘Seungie’.”

Jake shrugs.

“Seungie! Not Lee, little shit, not fucker, not any of that, but Seungie!” Sunghoon says and Jake sighs, shrugging again.

“I did see them together in Hogsmeade.” Sunoo, a Slytherin who was a year below the two joins. “Just last Saturday. Y/N’s wearing Lee Heeseung’s scarf. And honestly, they’re very obvious, you know? And like, last week, I saw them sneaking at night. Lee Heeseung even walked her back to the common room.”

Jake and Sunghoon turned to the younger boy who just shrugged at them. “How did you know they sneaked—”

“Snuck.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at Jake. “That they snuck out?” He continues.

“Jungwon, Riki and I snuck out that time, too.” Sunoo says, raising his eyebrows as he stands and walks away from the two. Jake and Sunghoon only look at each other, but Sunghoon is smiling smugly.

45 minutes have passed since the game started, Han Jisung from Hufflepuff announces the scores as Heeseung makes a goal. The match is just mainly you and Heeseung chasing each other around with the quaffle. How come Sunghoon never noticed this? It was entertaining to everyone how the two sworn enemies are chasing around, but what Sunghoon noticed since he started paying close attention was that you and Heeseung were never harsh with each other.

Heeseung hits your arm with so much force, but when it’s close to your arm already, it becomes a soft pat. You would elbow Heeseung’s side, but Sunghoon realizes that you only touch Heeseung’s elbow with yours softly.

Sunghoon comes to the conclusion that you two are whipped.

Almost an hour later, the Golden Snitch finally decides to make an appearance and the two seekers chase it right away. Jay throws the quaffle to Heeseung, but you manage to get in between and catch it. Heeseung chases you right away as you dodge everything going your way, seeing Heeseung advancing beside you.

“Fuck!” You hear your boyfriend say and you turn your head quickly to see if he is okay, but you stop when you see him falling, almost meeting the ground. You feel the quaffle being grabbed from you, but you don’t care as you turn your broom around to chase Heeseung.

“Heeseung!” You call and he lands on his back with a thud. “Shit!” You curse as you get down as fast as you can. When you’re almost on the ground, you jump off your broom as you run to your boyfriend who’s unconscious. You get on your knees beside him as you cup his cheek, other hand on his shoulder shaking him. “Seungie, wake up. I’m kicking your ass, if you don’t wake up, I swear on Merlin’s beard.”

You don't care if everyone finds out now. You don’t care that the audience’s eyes are on you now as you try to wake up your boyfriend. You don’t care that even the game has stopped as everyone watches you. You don’t care even if the teachers and staff are watching.

“What the fuck?” Jisung accidentally says through the microphone of the announcer and he feels McGonagall hit him on the head.

As Madam Pomfrey and some students snap out of the trance, they run to you and Heeseung, putting him on the stretcher, taking him to the hospital wing. You follow and everyone takes a minute to process everything.

The two sworn enemies… are actually together all along? That’s something else.

The sound of whistle snaps the players up in the air out of their trance. “Resume the game!” Madam Hooch orders.

“Y/N, calm down.”

“No! You hit my fucking boyfriend with a fucking bludger. What if you hit him on the head? How the fuck would you replace his head?”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m really sorry—”

“Oh, come on! I know your hands were itching to fucking hit anyone from their team because they were on the lead.” You say as Heeseung slowly opens his eyes, seeing you sitting by the edge of his bed, your head turned to your captain. His good arm on your lap.

“Who the hell are you? Y/L/N Y/N can’t take to lose and you—”

You were quick to stand, about to grab Hyunjin, but Heeseung was quicker to hold your hand. You turn around, looking at him. “Hey, how do you feel?” You ask, sitting back as you hold his hand in yours.

“Throat feels dry.” Heeseung croaks and you stand up, helping him sit up. You grab the pitcher, putting water in the cup. You give the cup to Heeseung and he drinks it right away as you brush your fingers through his hair. You put it away when he’s done and he smiles at you.

“Oh my God.” Sunghoon says and you turn to him, seeing him that he’s looking at you with a judging look on his face. “You’re so… whipped, Y/N.”

“Okay, if you think you’re already forgiven about telling everyone about our relationship—” You say, standing up as you’re ready to fight Sunghoon who’s already taking steps backwards. “You are so wrong, Park. You are going to—”

“Hey, calm down.” Heeseung says, arm around you with his hand on your hip as he rests his cheek on your shoulder, lightly laughing. “I’ll talk to you later, I wanna be alone with Y/N.” He tells Jay and Jake who nod, finding the scene funny as well. The two were the first ones to leave, Sunghoon smiling at Heeseung who nodded before Sunghoon left. Then Hyunjin, your captain, was about to leave.

About to.

“Hyunjin?” You call and he turns around, looking at you. You raise an eyebrow, nodding towards Heeseung while you glare at him.

“What if I don’t—”

Hyunjin cuts himself off when he sees you tilting your head, clearing his throat, chuckling nervously as he walks closer. “I’m just kidding, you.” He nervously says, knuckles softly bumping against your chin. When he gets no reaction from you, he sighs, turning to Heeseung. “I’m sorry about the bludger. I was dodging it off, I didn’t know it would hit you.”

“It’s okay, hyung.” Heeseung says.

“No, it’s not—”

You cut yourself off when you feel Heeseung squeezing your side. You glare at Hyunjin and he smiles at you. Hyunjin exits the hospital wing and you turn to your boyfriend. “You’re scaring everyone off.” Heeseung says, chuckling. “That’s your captain and he’s scared of you.”

“And?” You said and Heeseung rolled his eyes, smiling at you. “How do you feel?”

“I’m good.” Heeseung says, nodding as his hand goes up to your collar, fixing it as he notices you’re on your uniform, minus the robe. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.” You answer as you take his hand, playing with his fingers. “It’s so boring. No one got me in trouble, I got no one in trouble.” You say, looking up at him. “Don’t do that again, okay? I knew the bludger was going to hit me.”

“Then why did you make Hyunjin hyung apologize?” Heeseung asks.

“Because he needs to aim upwards, I don’t know why he aimed it sideway.” You answer and Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head. “But seriously, don’t do that again.”

“If I didn’t do it, you’re the one who’d be out for three days.” Heeseung says and you shrug.

“I could use a rest away from you.” You tease and he smiles, shaking his head. You sigh, putting your arm around him as you pull him in a hug. He wraps his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. “Everyone knows now, we don’t have to sneak.” You say, pulling away and he hums.

“How?” He asks.

You hum. “Uh,” you trail off, deciding to leave out the part that the match stopped because of you going to him when he fell. “Sunghoon saw us last week and told everyone.”

Heeseung laughs, nodding and you look at him through your lashes. “I really worried you, didn’t I?” He asks and you shake your head, looking away as you tighten your hold on his hand. Heeseung knows you’re lying. “Look, I’m okay! Frankly, I think the bludger should’ve hit me harder.”

You look at him, raising your eyebrow. “I’m okay, really.” He says and you nod.

“I know.” You say, sighing.

“You know what would cheer me up, though?” He says and you hum. “Seeing my girlfriend smile. She rarely does it, but when she does, my heart just melts because I know it’s real.”

You shake your head, placing your hand on his head. “Go back to sleep.” You say and he laughs, grabbing your hand, pulling it down to his lips to kiss your palm. “Seriously, Heeseung, I haven’t washed my hands for over an hour.”

“But I can see you like it, your cheeks are growing red.” He says and you sigh, shaking your head. “Come on, baby, smile for me.” He says and you sigh, pressing your lips against him as you close your eyes. “Okay, this works, too.” He says against your lips as he closes his eyes, causing you to laugh which makes him smile.

“Okay, lovebirds. Cut it out, now.” Madam Pomfrey says, coming into the hospital wing and you pull away, causing Heeseung to pout. You look at him, shrugging. “As much as it interests me—and the whole school—how you two got together, Mr. Lee needs his rest and I need to mend his bones. He’ll be out of here before dinner, dear, don’t worry.”

You nod. “Thank you, ma’am.” You say and she nods, smiling. You press one last kiss on Heeseung’s lips and then another one on his forehead. You stand up as you grab something from the side and put it on Heeseung’s lap, walking away as Madam Pomfrey starts to pour the bone mending medicine into the cup. Heeseung looks down to see his red and gold striped scarf neatly folded. Heeseung watches your back as you turn to him, smiling at him which causes him to smile as well.

Like Madam Pomfrey said, Heeseung was out before dinner, going to you as he teased you how you went to him right away when he fell off his broom while putting his scarf around you as he pressed a kiss on your cheek.

Yup, Sunghoon outed you. But you honestly don’t care.

Let the whole world be chaotic, you don’t care. All you care about is Heeseung.

(You’d still kick Sunghoon’s ass, though).

— july 26, 2022. heeracha.

#im sorry it took long i got carried away with some stuff lmAO #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung reactions #heeseung fluff #heeseung au #heeseung x reader

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