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hcuyk · 2 years

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synopsis. you've been fake dating juyeon for three months, but you decide to call it quits when you realize that everything in the relationship and the feelings you have were much more than what's shone on the surface

pairing. fakeboyfriend!juyeon x genderneutral!reader

genre. fake dating au, mutual pining, bittersweet, majority angst, fluff, and an overall merry nice ending

warnings. profanities, poorly written

word count. 3.3k

perspective. second person omniscient

author's note. aera, this is for you and one of your entries for the 600 special event. thank you for being one of my closest friends, and i'm so glad that you're always here for me :( i really hope this fic becomes a comfort fic for you because that was my goal, MWAH I LOVE YOU please enjoy 🥺 also special thanks to @hyuukais for beta-reading and helping me with this fic when i desperately needed it

taglist. [ @strawbericc ] @stealanity @yourjaylaks @wooyoung-a @kimaya2209 @armysantiny @changminurheart @moonieric @sunfics @fullsunfluff @lcvekdy @deputyjuyeon @simpforsunwoo @nyujjan @jaekiths @i6swoo @fairycob @karsohn @nilesig @twentysixofmays

Considering how popular your ‘boyfriend’ is at school, you would assume he’d choose to attend the amusement park with his enormous number of friends yet oddly enough, he was persistent on going with you.

He wouldn’t stop spamming you through text about how there will be fireworks late at night and how he already bought the tickets, so you really couldn’t back out of it unless you wanted to be a dick. Though, when you think about your relationship with Lee Juyeon, it doesn’t make sense. What does going to Lotte World have to do with your fake relationship? If anything, it’s the last thing you deem necessary for your shared facade.

The goal is simple; make Juyeon’s ex-girlfriend jealous.

It all started when you happened to be the person in the booth behind Juyeon’s table, and accidentally eavesdropped on Juyeon’s outrage about his ex-girlfriend moving on way too quickly from him. He wanted her back, and in order to do this, he planned on tossing himself into a fake relationship so he could shove it in her face.

Unfortunately, he chose you, out of all people, because he was friends with everyone he knew. He didn’t know you, and therefore it made you perfect for his plan. The only reason you complied is because he bribed you with free bags of chips for a month straight, but he gave up on that promise after a week.

Now, three months later, the relationship hasn’t brought any hope of jealousy since, but the thing is—you’re not complaining. You know it’s wrong of you to wish that his ex-girlfriend would never return, but you’ve fallen for Juyeon, and you couldn’t help but want to keep him for yourself.

Despite being head over heels for him, you would’ve normally rejected his offer. It doesn’t matter if he bought two tickets and had one with your name written all over it; you would’ve told him to spend the time with one of his friends instead because in all honesty, the more dates you go on with Juyeon, the more you end up falling for him.

But you agreed to go with him this time because you made a promise.

You made a promise to yourself that this will be the last time you’ll associate yourself with Lee Juyeon.

So, right after school, you and Juyeon jumped onto a metro after giving your friends your backpacks to take home. You both remained in your uniforms because Juyeon refused to waste any time by changing. It was very apparent how excited Juyeon was. He had one earbud in while he uninvitingly rested his head on your shoulder. He restrained himself from snuggling up to your side, and yawned, scrolling through his phone to pass the time.

Meanwhile, all you could think about was how you’d planned on ending the relationship. You didn’t know how you’d word it or how you’d even bring it up, so it became all you could ponder, even when you both reached the park.

Your mind was cleared of your (rather condescending) thoughts when Juyeon pulled you into lines to get into the rides and the screams you both shared only brought you happy ones instead. You were usually never impressed with the attractions theme parks provide, but with Juyeon by your side, you saw everything with a different perspective.

While you were distracted with taking photos of the castle, Juyeon came up behind you and surprised you with a headband on your head. His smile was wider than ever, and he laughed when you spun around and shot him a glare. You chose to buy the same headband for him when he was distracted, the one with fox ears and a cactus atop, and he whined when you surprised him with it by forcing it upon his head. You both walked around while wearing them and Juyeon made the stupid mistake of keeping it on his head on a roller coaster. You gave him yours without taking ‘no’ for an answer, and he was hiding a bashful smile as he wore it around his neck while you dragged him around the park by his hand.

Amidst all the rides that provided sharp yet addicting waves of acceleration and thrill, you mainly looked forward to the bumper cars.

Each car could only hold one passenger, forcing you to separate from Juyeon. You didn’t mind—in fact, you both enjoyed it. You drove around the entire closure whilst holding back screams because of how Juyeon was chasing after you, constantly ramming his car into yours whenever he got the chance. His laughter filled the entire room when he had you locked against a wall, claiming victory once time was called.

The indoor rides had begun to reach their closing time, and you both only realized this after exiting the bumper cars.

As much as Juyeon had been here, he never went on the carousel.

Usually, when he’d gone to Lotte World, he’d be accompanied with friends or family and therefore it gave him no reason to spend his time riding a rather boring ride when he could be queuing for a more thrillsome adventure.

But with you, he was adamant on going on the carousel with you the entire day. He wouldn’t stop bringing it up in the middle of class (he sits behind you—go figure) and kept mumbling about how fun it’d be whilst dozing off on your shoulder in the metro. It was quite entertaining how a teenage boy could get this excited about going on a merry-go-round, so to see him so desperate made it hard to convince him that you both should ride it during nighttime. You argued that it’d look way prettier, and with a huff, he agreed.

Though, with that decision, he was on the verge of sulking and cursing you out (which he does fairly weakly) when you two had to run across the entire indoor park to reach the carousel, but luckily the remaining worker saved you from the whines by letting you two inside.

With sixty-four seats, each and every one would end up occupied but because of the lack of people, only half of the horses were taken. You were thankful for this because it gave you a chance to have some alone time with Juyeon.

Or rather, your last few moments with Juyeon.

Little did he know about how you had finally planned on ending everything between the two of you. That included the forced words of affirmation and unconventional dates that Juyeon had excused with giving the relationship ‘life’. All of this would end soon because all of it was merely nothing.

You both hoisted yourself up onto separate horses that stood adjacent to each other with Juyeon taking the inner one.

Once you’d settled on top, Juyeon reached to hold onto your hand before the ride started, mindfully rubbing his thumb over your skin. You hated how he knows how to comfort you after being together for only three months, especially when the entire relationship wasn’t even a relationship; it was a joke. That’s how you saw it, at least.

When the horses began to move, infinite coos and ahhs were heard throughout the carousel. Although it was nighttime, the bright lights somehow managed to blind you. Regardless, everything was stunning. Your eyes remained captivated as you took in every detail crafted into the carousel, and you genuinely felt like you were floating on clouds as the horses raised you up and down.

The entire moment was bittersweet; it was filled with resurfacing thoughts about how you were able to hold Juyeon’s hand without him even knowing it was your last time holding onto him. Regardless, you thought it would be a rather nice memory to look back on and smile at.

“You were right,” Juyeon says, momentarily interrupting your thoughts. “It is prettier at night.”

You tore your gaze away from the golden specks and shiny metal to look at Juyeon. He had his head resting against the pole, and he smiled when your eyes caught his. He subtly squeezed your hand, and that’s when you noticed that he’d never taken his off of you the entire ride.

It wasn’t the carousel that made him feel so enamored. It was you. You were the one that contained all the beauty, and all Juyeon could do is become entranced by the simple sight of you.

He didn’t say anything else, and neither did you. It all fell into slow motion when the world seemed to disappear around you, allowing the lights of the carousel to provide a spotlight on the two of you.

It didn’t help how he looked at you ever so lovingly, making your heart soar for miles, and you wished that moment wouldn’t have to end.

Hell, you wished your relationship with him would last forever.

But your relationship with him wasn’t even a relationship, and eventually it would all come to a stop—just like the carousel.

Juyeon leapt off his seat and helped you down ever so gently. He didn't let go of your hand as you both left the vicinity, using his free hand to adjust the headband around his neck. Instead of spoken sentences of joy, all Juyeon did was laugh out of happiness.

True, sincere happiness.

And he only felt that with you.

Fresh air and an unwelcome breeze greeted you both once you stepped outside, and Juyeon instantly rushed you over to the bridge in front of the castle. You can’t help but smile widely at the colorful lights that managed to consume the both of you. Juyeon looked so beautiful as the colors of the rainbow flashed across his skin and uniform, and joining the sight were joyus screams coming from those remaining on the outdoor rides.

You both made it in time for the fireworks, and Juyeon shoved his way through to get the perfect spot against the ledge of the bridge rather than being in the middle of the crowd. The fireworks started shooting up into the sky, and Juyeon didn't even bother to take out his phone to record it all. Instead, he had an arm looped around your waist, keeping you close against his side while the show played out in the sky.

But throughout it all, the urge to spill out what’s been on your mind the entire day refused to stop prodding at your throat, so you turned to face him and called his name.

“Juyeon,” you said loudly over the cracks and booming sparkles.

Mesmerized by the sight, he didn’t remove his gaze from the sky. All he did was respond with a ‘hm?’, and his response left you unintentionally gazing into his eyes.

Not only were the fireworks being reflected in the depths of his pupils, but they also held a sparkle that didn’t shine in the sky; one you believe could only be seen through Juyeon’s eyes when he was with you. The way it shimmered reminded you of how special you considered Juyeon, and it gave you a reason to hold onto what you have with him.

But you knew you couldn’t do it for any longer, especially when you couldn’t prioritize a fake relationship over your heart becoming permanently shattered because of what you feared as the end result.

“I don’t-...I don’t think we should do this any more.”

Juyeon became stiff and the smile on his lips fell. The grand finale was filled with countless fireworks all being shot up at once, filling the entire sky with fireworks before it was all gone. They died out in not only the sky, but in his eyes, and the sparkle is nowhere to be seen, leaving his gaze dull.

He doesn’t ask ‘what?’ or ‘huh?’ like usual because for once, he understood what you were implying.

“This as in…our relationship?” he warily questioned, hoping that he just misunderstood things, but alas, his thoughts are proven otherwise when your voice croaks.

“Fake relationship,” you corrected through a mumble. Your heart ached when you caught sight of his downturned features, you ignored it to the best of your ability because from what you knew, it could all be an act.

You forced your eyes to dart towards the ground, only catching sight of the rapid footsteps that passed the two of you. Many were exiting the amusement park with laughter and playful teases while you remained with Juyeon, hopeless and lost.

“What makes you say that? Say that we shouldn’t do this anymore…Y/N?”

“We’ve been doing this for three months,” you whispered. You picked up your head, looking up at him with tears glossing your eyes. “Three months, and to be completely honest, I don’t think this is going anywhere. We lost a purpose for this relationship, so everything between us just seems so…pointless.”

Juyeon parted his lips as if he wanted to retaliate, but seeing that you had more to say made him stay silent.

“Your ex-girlfriend…she’s happy, and I think it’s better if we break this off so we could continue with our own love lives.” You nibbled on the inside of your lip, trying to decipher Juyeon’s thoughts while looking into his eyes. “Juyeon, I think it’s better if you find someone to love instead of staying in something that’s fake.”

“Fake…you’re saying everything is fake.”

Juyeon wasn’t the type to cry, but seeing him broken was worse than having tears cascade down his cheeks. His eyes barely held an ounce of hope and his gaze was like a puppy with downturned ears.

“No,” you rushed to whisper, quickly reassuring him by bringing a hand up to his cheek. “Not…not everything, but this relationship? It’s not real.”

“So that’s why you want us to part—because we’re not real.” He slightly bobbed his head as if he understood, looking away from you, but he continued to lean into the warmth of your palm, using it as support.

You didn’t want to confirm nor deny his words, so you apologized.

“I’m sorry.”

You were about to leave, but your interlaced hand with Juyeon refused to do so.

And he noticed this.

“That’s not it,” he concluded, breaking the silence. Your eyebrows furrowed due to confusion.

“...What?”

“It’s something else, isn’t it? Why…why?” Juyeon wished he could form his words better, but he couldn’t. All he can do is ask ‘why?’.

Why on a day like this? Why during the moment when he felt the happiest he’s been in a long time? Why…why did you think about letting go when he treasured you so incredibly much?

“There’s nothing else,” you quickly denied, keeping up with your act. “This relationship is fake, so it’s better we end it to avoid wasting anymore time.”

“Then why haven’t you let go of my hand?”

His cautious, dejected whisper made you break the facade you’ve been trying so hard to hold up. The tears brimming your eyes finally became visible under the moonlight, and your eyes fell shut to prevent any droplets from slipping out. You instinctively leaned forward to rest your forehead against his chest, pouring out the truth.

“Because I don’t want to,” you replied, unconsciously latching your teeth onto your lower lip. “I don’t want to let go of you. I’m not prepared for the day your ex-girlfriend finally realizes she wants you back. I’m not prepared for when you’ll break up with me for her, and before you say anything, I know that’s what we agreed on, but the more I think about it, the more my heart aches.

I can’t do it. My heart can’t harbor the amount of pain when you leave me for someone else, so I figured it’d be easier if I was the one who let go first. It was never meant to be something I wanted to hold on for eternity.” You paused to take a breather, unsure if Juyeon heard you at all through the incessant chatter from the people around you. You then laughed, dry of all humor, in an attempt to brighten the mood. “I’m sorry, Ju, for being weak and falling for you—it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

A response was found caught in his throat, leaving him quiet for minutes on end, and you don’t have the courage to look up at him for his reaction—so when Juyeon pulled his hand away from yours, your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach. Nothing could stop the tears from pouring down your cheeks, not when you were in the arms of someone that didn’t love you, at least from what you assumed.

You were prepared to be ditched, left alone, but instead you were met with his hand wrapped around your nape, pressing you closer into his embrace while his other arm locked around your torso as if to keep you secured and protected from others. It pained him to see you like this, to see you broken because of him and his stupid selfishness.

“Y/N…I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t stop your tears from wetting his shirt, hating how his actions always made you feel so comfortable, but what couldn’t be helped was his words that tore your heart to shreds. You bunched up the material into your fist, wishing he’d say anything more; just something.

Or maybe it would’ve been better if he’d left you.

It was better than holding you while also rejecting you at the same time.

“Let’s make this real.”

Perplexed, you reluctantly looked up at him. You weren’t prepared for the expression that masked his features. It was one that mirrors yours with a glint of faith lingering in his eyes.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m sorry for calling this a fake relationship from the very start when everything was so real…to me, it was real, so let’s make it real.”

He combed his fingers through your hair, tucked a few strands behind your ear, and then cupped your cheek. You remained speechless, unsure of what to think, and Juyeon sucked in a sharp breath.

He knew it was either now or never to say something because if he didn’t, he would lose you in a heartbeat.

“After a month of us being together, my ex, she pulled me aside after school one day to talk,” Juyeon explained, recalling the very moment. “She said she noticed the way I looked at you. She said it’s the same way she looks at her own boyfriend, and she said the reason she moved on so fast is because I never looked at her like that. Nevertheless…she was happy for how I found someone to finally give my heart to, and that talk…it made me realize how much you mean to me.”

“So…the spontaneous dates-”

“-were just an excuse to spend more time with you,” he continued. “I’m sorry, for letting you believe otherwise. I should have said something earlier, I-”

“Juyeon,” you started, cutting him off, but he didn't falter.

“I like you.”

Despite the fireworks being long gone, they had resurfaced within your heart, making the organ burst with the three simple words. He caressed your cheek while awaiting an answer, for you to pull away, to reject him, but you closed your eyes once more and leaned into his touch.

“I like you too—so, so much.”

You could only laugh when you catch how his smile returned. You reached up to take the headband off his neck while he rested his hands on your hips, watching your every movement. You adjusted it back onto his head, and the close proximity of his face made you giggle. He leaned in and hovered his lips over yours teasingly, whispering a sentence that has you seeing sparks before giving you full permission to dive in for a long-lasting kiss.

“Then let me be officially yours.”

NAVIGATION | TBZ MASTERLIST

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hyunsuks-beanie · 2 years

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Room-Warming

Idol! Hyunjin x fem. bodied! reader

Genre: Fluff; smut; unprotected sex; oral (f. receiving); implied cockwarming

Rating: M/18+ (minors dni)

Word Count: 1.55k words

Mellow speaks: Here we go with Hyunjin!! I hope my cat anonnie likes this, and I also hope that the nonnie who requested this will enjoy this too!! Honestly, fooling around with Hyun in his newly-single room would be so amazing, wouldn't it? Anyway, I hope you guys like this!!

Tagging: @freckledwinterfalls

"Welcome to your new room, eh?," You say, a smirk playing at your lips as you look up at your boyfriend, his lanky form leaning against the doorframe as the two of you stand on the threshold, hands loosely intertwined. "Thanks for helping me out today," he replies, smiling almost lazily as he looks down at you, his arm making its way around your shoulders.

The boys had finally moved into a dorm which was much bigger than their previous one, allowing each member to have a room to himself. But being the busy bodies that they were, they hadn't gotten around to bringing in a majority of their stuff from the old dorm, leaving the new apartment pretty....empty for lack of a better word. Of course, they were slowly filling it up, one room at a time, as and when they got a couple hours to spare from their schedules.

Excited to finally be able to have some privacy with you without the fear of someone walking in every five minutes, and wanting to welcome you to a room that was full of life inside it instead of being akin to a barren piece of land, Hyunjin had asked you to lend him a hand setting everything up. And being the nice partner that you were, you had agreed in a heartbeat, finding it to be an excuse to spend some more time with him.

And that brings you to now, satisfied smiles on your faces as you look about the place you've managed set up at last. With the bed occupying a majority of the portion of the floor, the desk in the corner complete with a computer and a pair of speakers, and your boyfriend's beloved drawing tools neatly placed and ready to use on the balcony, the room finally seems like home to Hyunjin, and to you.

Closing the door shut, he turns to you, walking over and taking your hand in his, playing with your fingers. "I can have some alone time with you at home now," he mumbles, the smile on his face hiding something behind it, something you can't quite place. Blinking a couple times, you ask, "And what do you want to do with that alone time?," a hint of teasing in your voice as you look up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Well, for starters," he says, assuming a faux thoughtful expression as his eyes scan the room, "Now we can cuddle all night long without anyone to disturb us." "That's true, what else?," you reply, gaze never leaving his. "We can play games and be loud and no one would care. And I can make as many sketches of you as I want, without anyone to tease me. And-," he stops short, gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"And?," you urge, biting your bottom lip gently as you look up at him, your expression expectant. But the next thing you know, you're caught in a kiss with him, your body pushed smack against his and your lips meeting his in what starts out as sweet, but turns into something no less than a frenzy in the blink of an eye.

Your hands crumpling the collar of his shirt, while his own get interlocked behind your back, it's like time stops for the two of you, your senses heightened as the only thing that feels real is Hyunjin's tongue that's gliding across your bottom lip, and the gasps that escape him every now and then. You remain like that for heaven knows how long, trapped in your own little bubble until oxygen becomes a problem.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours, his ragged breath mixing with your own as he whispers, "And I can kiss you like this without anyone watching." It takes you a while to let that sink in, his newfound boldness a sharp contrast to how you're used to him at the dorms, shy and nervous about Minho beating him up or Chan throwing him out if you get too loud or too steamy.

Things soon take a turn for something much more heated, your back hitting the mattress and your lips meeting your boyfriend's once again, this time in a kiss thats more desperate and more sloppy than the first. Pulling him closer, you don't stop until your chest is flat against his, long and slender fingers making their way under the hem of your shirt, drumming against your bare skin.

Before you know it, your clothes lie discarded on the floor of the new room, a mop of blonde hair tickling the insides of your thighs as his tongue laps across your folds, kitten licks blossoming in its wake. Tugging on his hair gently, you let your hands roam down his neck, all the way to his bare back, nails digging into his skin as moan after moan escapes your lips from the pleasure he's giving you.

"Now now angel, someone's gonna hear those pretty sounds of yours," he says, showing no signs of shutting you up as he continues to eat you out, the knot in your stomach growing tighter by the minute. His words only cause your voice to grow louder, moans being replaced by whines as you beg for him to let you cum. "F-faster Hyun- ahhh, I'm c-close," you manage to choke out, sweat beading your forehead thanks to your impending orgasm.

Despite his initial plans to tease you just a few minutes longer, Hyunjin finds himself giving in to your request, the way his name rolls off your tongue making his boxers feel even tighter than before. Picking up the pace, his strokes become nearly relentless, your taste doing things to his mind and making him lose all self-control. After that, it's only a matter of seconds before you reach your climax, a white hot pleasure spreading throughout your body as he lifts his head up, catching you in another sweet kiss.

"W-want you in me," you whisper against his lips, causing him to let out a chuckle as he pulls away gently, ready to do what, you know all too well. But you of course, are quicker than him, hand grabbing his bicep as you pull him back close to you, a tiny yelp making its way past his lips as he uses his arms to prop himself up. Lifting your head up every so slightly, you bring your lips close to his ear, whispering a "Can't wait," as your teeth dig into his shell.

"Desperate much?," he quips, a teasing edge to his voice as he complies yet again, boxers sliding down his legs and joining the pile on the floor. Spreading your legs, he lets his eyes travel upwards to meet yours, a smile on his face as he asks, "Ready?" It's at that moment that you feel your heart swell, the fact that no matter how many times you've slept with him, he never fails to ask you for permission making him all the more endearing. A single nod from you is all he needs to let go, his length sliding into your hole as he hisses at how tight you are.

A pace is soon set up, his member pounding into you as your hands cling to his torso for dear life. He continues to thrust into you, the coil in your stomach growing tighter once more. Your moans growing louder, you somehow manage to notice that Hyunjin's movements too, are becoming sloppier by the second. "Damn babe, I'm already close," he grunts, causing a whine to escape your lips. One last thrust, and he finally cums inside of you, his warm seed stimulating you to the point where you reach your climax, pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being as you ride out your high.

He all but collapses on top of you, a kiss being placed to your lips as the two of you drift off to dreamland, Hyunjin's member securely buried deep inside you. A good night's sleep is always welcome after some fun with your boyfriend, a that's exactly what you needed at the moment too. That's the last thought you have before you finally give in to sleep, a "Good night, my love," slipping past your lips.

Waking up the next morning, you're quick to notice the lack of his body pressed to yours, the walls of your core clenching around nothing as your eyes flutter open. Turning your head to the side, a smile takes over your lips as you take in the sight in front of you. There he is, peacefully sketching away on the balcony, a thin white T-shirt hugging his figure and blonde hair cascading down his face from a bun that's messily done. Getting off the bed, you can't help but smile upon noticing how he's left his shirt on the floor, obviously for you to wear.

Picking it up, you throw it over your form, your panties following suit before you make your way over to him, bending down to place a kiss to his lips. He can only smile at the sudden move, the sweet taste of your lips making him sigh as he pulls you to sit on his lap. "Good morning, beautiful," he mutters, wrapping his arms around you.

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joyfulhopelox · 2 years

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Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

Pairing: Lee Minho x reader (college!au, f2l)

Summary: The dance soc is not the place to flirt but you promised yourself you’d try new things this year, and when the boy wearing the colourful cosy sweater approaches you with a compliment you can’t resist but respond to him.

Genre: smut, romance, fluff (pwp)

Wc: 12.4k (I am so sorry)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: dirty talk, sensory play (ish), creampie, mirror sex, clothed sex (not dry humping but that too), fingering, oral (f receiving), Lino's a keen bastard and I am obsessed with that cardigan that is it.

A/N: Thank you for looking over this fic and the amazing feedback @btssmutgalore (this one is for you) and thank you @notyouroppar for patching up my plot holes even if all you wanted was to eat your cake! Insanity part 2 but I wanted to write it, and I hope it is enjoyable to read.

Copyrights for the story and banner @joyfulhopelox

That being said please enjoy! I would love to hear from you so please leave me a message! 💌

He was wearing that stupid sweater again. Another gruesome day in the dance studio. The preparation for the upcoming show for the holidays made you stay behind for hours to practice. And your best friend, danseur extraordinaire Lee Minho who dragged you into the production was wearing that stupid brightly coloured jumper. Again. And by the looks of it, the strip of skin and peek of collarbone you got when he made certain movements meant he was scarcely wearing anything underneath it.

“Anything wrong?” His voice broke you out of your concentration, the surprise of having been addressed whilst you were busy staring at the bright fluffy sweater imagining what may be underneath it, making you jump.

Prying your eyes away from his chest, you met his amused expression, aware of your own flustered one. “No, why would you say that?” You asked quickly, swallowing hard at the mischievous look he was throwing your way. If anything, Lee Minho was a serious tease, but a harmless one. He always found new ways to make the heat rise up under your skin by teasing you, but he’s never made a move to follow through with it.

And as much as you wanted it to happen, he was your friend, and you couldn’t risk your friendship for something like that. So you chose to ignore his teasing most of the time, brushing it away with light jokes hoping it would deter him from continuing. Unfortunately, your plan backfired when he became more and more insistent, his jokes switching to light touches here and there and compliments with every opportunity he got.

“You were staring,” he shrugged, taking a swig of his water, his breathing still heavy from the effort. You tried to disprove his point by avoiding the wet trail of sweat that mapped his jawline, slowly making its way down the smooth skin of his neck only to disappear underneath the hem of his jumper.

“Are you not hot in that?” You threw back at him, forcibly turning away from him if only to evade the satisfied smirk you knew all too well.

“Depends, want me to take it off?” He fired back and you gasped, appalled at his preposterous proposal. Despite your strong reaction, your mind instantly wandered to places you told yourself you would not touch. Minho was not ugly. In fact, he was the exact opposite - high cheekbones, defined jawline, and a slightly downward pointed chin, all making him incredibly good looking. Enough that you would find yourself thinking about his lips and what they would feel like pressed all over your skin. The lustful thoughts suddenly intruding in your mind made you squirm and it was you who ended up feeling too warm.

“N-no, thanks,” you said, clearing your throat vigorously in hopes that it would serve to clean your mind of your own thoughts. Trying to change the subject, you ran through the choreography in your head, your feet trying to copy what you remembered from your class earlier that day.

“No, not like that. It should be like this,” Minho interrupted you, his body automatically catching up with your moves and correcting you. Taken by surprise, you stopped moving, your eyes narrowed in annoyance, breath coming out in rasps from the effort.

“No, it’s not, not my part,” you disagreed with him once your breathing levelled and you could stand up straight. Coming face to chest with him, you took a step back.

If you were squaring back with him, you needed to not be in close proximity. His being alone made you malfunction. “My part goes slower at the beginning and then quicker at the end. I’m the third row,” you told him matter of factly.

Minho was silent for a second before he sighed, shaking his head. Turning away from you, he grabbed his discarded water. “Do you really think,” he said, taking a sip out of it before putting it back down and moving nearer to you. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to stay rooted on the spot. The impulse to move away from him and put some distance between the two of you was too strong, you could barely think let alone argue an intelligent point. “Do you really think I don't know what row you are in?” He repeated making you look at him in confusion.

He looked serious, his eyes framed by light coloured bangs shadowing them, his lips pursed in concentration. It was all you needed for your heart to stop beating and your breath to cease.

“I’m always keeping an eye on you and what you’re doing, Y/N,” he simply said. The way his voice lowered as he said it made it sound so natural that for a second you almost believed him. Then you remembered he was normally the one to step in when the dance teachers needed extra hands.

Still flustered and disappointed at yourself for entertaining these thoughts, you looked away. “Clearly not, there is a different part to the choreography than what you’ve just shown me,” you didn’t know why you were so adamant to prove him wrong. Maybe it was the disappointment of not being more special in his eyes, or maybe it was the stubbornness of not wanting to admit that his intense stare on you in every class meant the exact opposite. But, you felt the strong need to argue your point and refute his. “Regardless, I won’t get them. It’s too hard.”

“Y/N…” he trailed off, sighing, frustration clear in his voice.

“Minho, what–?” Unable to finish your sentence as he pulled you to him, hand holding onto your wrist, the other keeping you secure by the waist, you struggled to make sense of what was happening. One moment you were arguing about dance moves, the next you were enveloped in his warmth, the soft material of his sweater brushing the inside of your palm.

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavered, your hand subconsciously grabbing onto his top, the plush feeling offering the comfort your heart needed.

“You said you don’t get the steps. I will show you them,” his voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, but the pointed way in which he said it, eyes staring intensely into yours, made your toes curl. In awe at the determination you found in Minho’s eyes, paired with the way his fingers gripped onto your own flimsy sweater entranced you. You couldn’t help but mindlessly nod, letting him pull you slightly to the middle of the room. Stood there, you refused to look away from him, his eyes still trained on you, lips slightly parted – he was a vision.

“You have to move, Y/N,” he gently coaxed, his feet slowly shuffling, pulling you along with him. “You can’t dance if your feet are not moving.” The mischievous look flashed again in his eyes, yet his smile remained gentle and comforting. Under his movements, your feet followed – slow and uncertain. One step, two step, three step, four.

“That’s it,” Minho encouraged, his face breaking out in a smile. Your hand twitched on his jumper, your fingers accidentally scraping at the skin underneath, making him hiss.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you said, gasping, going to pull away. His quick reflexes prevented you from doing so, the arm around your waist pulling you back in before you could move further away. Not expecting his reaction, you stumbled over your feet almost stepping over his.

“There is no need to apologise, shall we try again?” He asked, not waiting for an answer.

Minho’s feet had already started moving, his movements quicker and more certain than before. Feeling as if you were going to trip once more over your own feet, or worse, his, you looked down worriedly. The way he moved had always enthralled you, so much precision and confidence. But the way he moved now paired with your own shabby movements as comparison, made it so you couldn’t look away.

“Ah, embarrassing,” you muttered to yourself, willing your feet to be more graceful. When it didn’t work, you sighed, feeling another wave of dejectedness washing over you.

“Hey, eyes up. This is not a waltz, I will need to move behind you,” Minho announced, not giving you any time to redress yourself before he pulled away, not further than a few centimetres. You could feel the air whoosh around you as he moved, his body emanating heat, the goddamned sweater brushing against you as he went. Settling behind you, he encircled your waist once more.

“Now slowly,” he instructed and you obeyed, eyes still trained on Minho, your feet followed the movement. “You will need to look in the mirror. Eyes up. On yourself. Dance with your reflection.”

His words made you groan. You didn’t have the best relationship with mirrors, especially not when dancing, the lack of self confidence that came with being a newbie in the studio put a damper on any outrageous moves like that.

“This is stupid, Minho, let’s drop it,” you whined, trying to pull away. Stepping away from him was easier than before as he was not holding your hand anymore, but he followed right behind you, his hand gripping at your top. You whined for him to let you go, entirely self-aware of how sweaty and grimy you were.

“We’re dancing, Y/N, not having sex,” Minho said and you gasped at his outrageous behaviour. Turning your head to look at him, you felt the heat rush to your face, your knees almost buckling at the impish smile he threw your way. “Unless you want to of course,” he winked, gauging your awed expression.

Feeling like a fish out the water, your mind reeling with possibilities, you breathed easily when he didn’t push for a response. Instead, his expression turned serious, and you found yourself admiring him. He had a certain spark in his eyes whenever he was dancing – probably because that was the only time he was genuine enough. Having experienced Minho’s teasing for so long whenever you two spoke, you tended to forget that he could be serious on occasion. Dancing always being the one you saw him most often in.

“Now, look at yourself. If you can’t do that,” he took a step closer, his hand grabbing your wrist again, “ look at me.” He was close enough now that you could feel his heat through both of your jumpers once more. You couldn’t help but listen, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument. You looked up, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you felt your skin grow hotter. Your hair was in disarray, your flushed skin was shiny, the beads of perspiration from earlier giving you a glow, your lips were swollen from biting them too much in concentration. What made your stomach clench and the heat pool all the way down your spine was the look he was throwing you in the mirror. Not looking better than you, Minho sported the same flushed face, his hair mussed from dancing earlier , the sheen of sweat more prominent on his skin. When your eyes met in the mirror, his darkened for a split second, and you felt your throat constrict.

“Let’s go,” he moved. “Keep your eyes in the mirror, watch me.”

It was not the appropriate context and you could have sworn at yourself for allowing your thoughts to wander where they shouldn’t. But, the slight waver in his voice told you that his words held more meaning than dancing. Letting your feet move, you mulled over what he meant, your mind furthest away from dancing.

“Eyes on me, Y/N,” Minho sounded strict, yet his fingers gently reached to grab your chin, pulling your head back up and holding it in place for a few seconds, asserting himself.

Showing you once more the movement, you tried to focus on the way his whole body moved. It wasn’t hard, he was demanding your attention from the moment he started moving. However, you were not thinking clearly, and certainly not about the dance.

His jean-clad thighs, tight enough that you could see the muscles moving underneath the material as he showed you the steps, paired with the goddamn sweater were drawing your thoughts to your aching core.

You struggled to keep up with him and your own thoughts at the same time and, when your concentration completely broke and you took a misstep falling flat onto your ass, the dam broke. Swearing out loud, you could feel the tears gather in your eyes, the frustration building up until you couldn’t take it anymore. Aware of Minho’s gaze on you, you tried to play it off by reaching for your bottle of water.

“Maybe I should just call it quits now,” you grumbled, throwing the bottle you drank out of far into the corner. Sweat was dripping down the side of your face, and the inertia after the vigorous exercise made your joints ache. You wanted nothing more than to be in a bath at home, curled up and crying. Feeling the tears in your eyes you sniffled, you didn’t want to show him your pain, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Shit, are you ok?” Minho quickly approached you, his warm hand attaching itself onto your shoulder.

His voice sounded panicked and, as soon as he realised you were close to tears, he crouched in front of you, eyes full of worry and teeth gnawing at his lips. Even in this state, you couldn’t help but set aside your pain and marvel at him. How he managed to distract you in such a way you’d never know. But then again, you’ve had a crush on him for the longest time; rekindled by a chance meeting on a train. Wearing the same stupid coloured sweater.

=====

Rush hour was the bane of everyone’s existence, you were certain of this fact. Anyone who claimed to not see it that way either had no idea what they were talking about or were lying straight through their teeth. There was nothing worse than being stuck on a train, a can on wheels, for at least half an hour, pressed up against one thing or another. If it wasn’t the pole of the train, it was against the doors or, worse, another human whose life was made as miserable as yours by you squishing into them. When the same scenario happened that day though, you swore things would never be the same. For the first time, being pressed like a bug between the door and someone else didn’t feel like hell. It felt comfortable.

That day you had the misfortune of leaving university later than you normally would, your assignments seemed to be piling up by the hour and you struggled to concentrate. It didn’t help that you went out with your friends to celebrate a birthday the night before, got drunker than you would normally and declared loud and proud that you would gracefully exit your celibate ways. When your friends made fun of you, reminding you how unlikely it was for you to have a spontaneous date or one night stand, you retaliated quickly promising that by next week you wouldn’t have had either or.

Remembering all that the next day during your classes was a hammer to your head; alongside your hangover, it made you want to crawl underneath the desk and pray for a swift death.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice whispered. Broken out of your thoughts, your body further being pressed against the door, you closed your eyes for a moment prepared to experience the harsh feel of someone’s coat against you and the stench of a day’s worth of cheap cologne and body odour.

Surprisingly, none of these hit you, but rather the gentle brush of soft wool combined with a sweet scent assaulted your senses and you opened your eyes confusedly. The array of colorful patterns that greeted you made you frown—it was rare that anyone wore anything outside of the earthy spectrum of colours. What furthered your confusion was the soft material that brushed against your hand from time to time when the train would take a turn and the person wearing it would lean further into you.

You resisted the urge to reach out and pat the material, not wanting to come across as the creep on the train. Intrigued by their fashion choice, you tried to focus on the other aspects of the person. Trailing your eyes away from the buttons of the sweater, you couldn't help but note their height and the amount of skin that was displayed right in front of you.

Gulping, you slowly pried your eyes away from the defined collarbone that would peek out of the edge whenever the person’s body moved closer towards you. If you would have been in a different situation, you wouldn’t have hesitated to turn around to save yourself from the embarrassment of ogling someone. However, you were stuck between this person and the door with little room for movement. Accepting your fate, you sighed dejectedly, regretting it immediately as the sweet cologne invaded your nostrils once more.

Carrying on with your inspection felt like an intrusion now, yet you couldn’t help yourself as curiosity got the better of you. The person was tall, but not as tall to impede you from getting a perfect view of his face. You bit your lip, the urge to groan in frustration dying in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he was good looking. With a softly defined jaw, plump lips with a slight pout, high cheekbones and incredibly soft looking skin, he looked like a winner in the looks department and his brightly coloured sweater only served to accentuate that.

“Goddamn,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the strap on your shoulder. You would remember those features anywhere, the features that tormented you in dance school as he mocked your skills until he brought you to tears.

“Are you ok? I’m not squishing you, am I?” You jolted at the question, eyes immediately snapping back in focus. Finding the handsome yet forbidden man staring at you in concern, a slight frown on his face didn’t surprise you as much as your response did.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather get squished by you than groped by a pervert,” you replied instantly, feeling the embarrassment crawl up your skin and heat up your face. Not one to let your words out without a filter, you felt mortified at your bravery.

You didn’t think he’d be able to get more handsome, but as he snorted at your comment, his lips slightly parted in laughter you realised how wrong you were.

“Do you always place that much trust in good looking people? Or is it just me?” He asked, the humour in his eyes making your palms sweat in mortification. Mortification because you easily recognised that face now that you stared at it long enough.

“Pffft, you’re not that special, who said you’re good looking?” You smartly responded, congratulating yourself for your swift comeback. You could’ve kicked yourself for not realising who he was sooner.The unmistakable lips and high cheekbones should have given him away.

“You were staring,” Minho responded, too quickly for your liking. Wondering how long he’s noticed you giving him the once over, you cleared your throat scrambling to find a good enough answer when your eyes caught sight of his lanyard.

“It’s not like I can look anywhere else,” you mumbled, shuffling on your feet. “Anyways Minho, what are you doing on this train? Do you live around here?” You inquired, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Trying not to cringe at your own prodding, you kept your eyes on his as a last attempt to make yourself look confident.

“As a matter of fact, I go to university around here. Now I’m questioning who the perverted one is. It’s been so long, Y/N, never thought you’d turn up in my life like this,” he laughed lightheartedly, leaning in towards you. The strong scent paired with his demeanour made your breath catch in your throat and you pulled back as much as you could. Your thoughts were jumbled, the realisation of your situation finally dawning on you. This was Lee Minho, your crush since middle school and your tormenter since before that.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t have happened if I could’ve helped it,” you muttered looking away from him, missing the slight frown that crossed his face. The train was close to pulling into the station, the jostle of the tracks paired with the shuffling of passengers desperate to make it to the door through the crowd caused you to stumble. Back hitting the door of the carriage, you yelped, the slight awkward angle that you hit it at made it pulse in pain.

Minho grabbed your shoulder a bit too late, his eyes widened as you hurt yourself. He winced as you let out a yelp. He could almost feel the bruise and could imagine it wasn’t a pleasant experience. “You good?” He asked worriedly. Not wanting to allow him to be privy to your moment of weakness, you shrugged.

“Who’s the pervert now?” Before he could respond, a look of confusion still etched onto his face, the train stopped announcing your stop. “Ah, well I have to dash,” you muttered, not bothering to look back as you exited the train hurriedly.

Later you would find out, he went to the same university as you did, and he had been going there for a while, you just never happened to cross paths. But when you decided to be brave and go for extracurricular activities that you wouldn’t normally go for, such as the dance society, you literally bumped into him.

=====

Running like a madwoman before you were about to enter a dance class was not a good idea and you knew it. You would be out of breath before the hour even started. But with the amount of presentations you had to take care of, and the pit stop you made by the coffee shop before heading to the dance club made you later than you’d intended. Sad that you had to down the rest of your drink before even getting to fully enjoy it, you legged it to class. Cursing softly under your breath, you realised you were already ten minutes late, something not so bad when it came to an elective, but this happened to be the first day of class. And you’ve just managed to brand yourself as the late one.

You didn’t even care that you were running at risk of bumping into anyone who may be rounding the corner until you slammed into a body, the force of it knocking you back. Almost losing your balance, you yelped as a hand grabbed you roughly stopping you from planting your bum onto the hard floor.

“Woah there. Are you alright?” A soft voice asked, sounding concerned. Too dazed to apologise, you could only nod, your sole focus set on regaining your breath.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I am late for class,” you said panting, gaze focused on the floor. You were feeling dizzy, the impact serving as a good reminder that you were not someone who had good stamina. Making a mental note to yourself that running across campus was probably something you shouldn’t attempt ever again, you straightened up. Feeling like the ground was not at risk of running away from you, you were ready to properly apologise to the victim of your mad dash when you came face to face with a familiar sweater. Eyes widening in recognition, you stumbled back a step grateful for the hand still holding onto you. “Oh.”

Minho chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s ok. Just be careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” he bent down towards you, lowering his voice, ”or anyone else for that matter.”

“I, uh, thank you,” you swallowed hard, his proximity to you making you dizzy once more. His sweet scent, the one that followed you even after you have exited the train, enveloped you and you fought the urge to inhale. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bash into you like that. Did I hurt you?” You said panicked that you may have caused him harm, his words finally registering in your head. Without thinking, you immediately touched the arm that was still firmly holding onto you, prepared to check for any bruises until his laughter stopped you.

“I am ok, Y/N. You’re not that strong,” Minho teased, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He watched as your face contorted in horror.

“Crap! Dance class! I am going to be late,” you let your head drop in your hands, ashamed at yourself for being so late. When Minho chuckled at you, you reeled back looking at him flabbergasted. “Do you think this is funny?” Appalled by his reaction, you prepared to yell at him about how important time keeping was for you, until he shook his head, the amusement never leaving his eyes.

“No, not at all. I am just laughing at the fact that somehow we managed to not only intersect as complete strangers on a train when we were friends before and we seem to be in the same university. But we are also part of the same society,” he chuckled, pushing your shoulder lightly as he started to walk down the corridor. “Don’t worry, I am their best dancer, if you go in with me you won’t look as bad, newbie,” Minho teased and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, not believing his audacity for a second.

“Pshhhyea right,” you mocked, making him throw you a look of disbelief.

“Well, I guess we will see. You will eat your words, Y/N,” he warned as you came up to the doors of the dance room.

And eat your words you did. In high resolution, eight step choreographies and nights where all you could think of was him and the passion he put into moving.

==========

“Y/N? Are you ok? If you need to cry, just cry,.” his voice brought you back to the present, the amusement at the memory of when you met him having passed, you felt useless once more.

You didn’t know whether it was the pent-up frustration or the comfort his touch brought you, but you found yourself leaning onto him, the onslaught of tears hidden by his sweater. Your body was shaking with the force of your sobs, your hands grabbing tightly onto the plush material of Minho’s top in a last attempt to find some grounding.

Hiccuping your apologies before another fresh wave of tears made you tremble in his arms and when he brought you closer to him, your face slotted in between his shoulder and neck, you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him. Everything came out of you at once, your struggles and pain pouring out of you in waves, not stopping until Minho gently shushed you.

“It’s ok, let it all out. I’m here,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders, his hand gently patting your head in a comforting manner.

When you profusely apologised the next second, he tightened his grip on you, his lips mindlessly pressing down onto the crown of your head. The soft pressure made you pause, the blood rushing to your cheeks. Even through the tears, you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, the pulse rapidly increasing, making your sobs subside to light sniffles. Not able to process what had happened, you stayed in his arms until your heart stopped banging about your chest and the heat in your cheeks subsided.

“You’re not a failure, you’re one of the best dancers we have. You’ve not only learned everything from scratch and managed to hold your own against some of our older, more experienced members, but you also got chosen to perform for this round. Plus I think –” he cooed, his voice ringing clearly in your head. Minho paused for a second as if trying to decide whether he should carry on or not, before he took a deep breath in. “I think you’re one heck of a partner,” he admitted so softly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I can’t even get down a simple step sequence,” you breathed, feeling a fresh new wave of tears well up in your eyes.

When you finally pulled away, you tried to scoot as further away as possible from him, your hands busy with clearing the marks on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, feeling flustered. You refused to meet his eyes, the reality of what’s happened hitting you like a freight train. “Oh God, I’m really sorry,” you hurriedly added, noticing the wetness on his skin. Without a thought, you pulled your own sweater over your hand reaching out to pat him dry until his hand gently grabbed yours.

“Y/N, please don’t,” he softly whispered, his voice sounding strained. Frozen, you hesitantly looked up only to meet his eyes. His brows were furrowed as if he was in pain, his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes darkened.

“Minho,” you whispered, the pain in his eyes making your heart clench with worry. “Are you ok?”

For a second, it seemed like he was about to keel over in pain, his eyes closed a frown etched onto his face. Your heart was beating faster and faster, mind reeling with possibilities as to what may have made him hurt like that. Your hand still in his, you pulled lightly at it in an attempt to free yourself from his warm hold. Even through your sweater, the heat radiating off of him was burning itself as a memory onto your skin. The movement seemed to have snapped something in him—in the next second your hand was freed and Lee Minho was as far away from you as possible.

Confused, and a bit hurt you stared at him, your hand cradling the one he pushed away from him to your chest. You didn’t know what happened, but the way he paced the floor, the soles of his sneakers squeaking against the polished wood, a concentrated look on his face told you he was done talking. Deciding to not push it, you cleared your throat and hoisted yourself up onto your feet.

“Right, well seeing as this turned into something none of us wanted, I will be calling it a day,” you announced, hoping to keep the hurt from your voice. You weren’t expecting him to treat you like this after letting you cry into him, but you assumed you’ve pushed a limit and you not only felt the need to extract yourself from the situation, but also to apologise. “I’m sorry if I made this more uncomfortable than needed.”

The way he stopped pacing when he heard your words and the incredulous look on his face surprised you entirely.

“You think…” He trailed off, hands running through his hair before he continued. “You think you made me uncomfortable?”

You didn’t know what to answer, stuttering, your mind completely confused at the turn of events. Did he think it was the opposite way round?

“I thought I made you uncomfortable,” he huffed out, his pacing resuming once more. Not able to withstand the frenzy with which he behaved, you grabbed the end of his sweater, stopping him before he did another full round.

“Minho, stop. You’re going to wear the floor down, or even worse, your own shoes,” you tried to joke, but the worry in your own eyes spoke of a different feeling. “You never made me uncomfortable, why would you even think that?” You questioned him, your grip on him tightening in case he tried to evade your questions once more. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the slight flicker of uncertainty behind them but you decided to press on. You needed answers, his behaviour an odd occurrence.

“Did I ever give off that feeling?” You tilted your head to the side, observing his reaction.

Not able to believe what he was hearing, Minho’s eyes locked on yours, his brows furrowed. “No, that is stupid,” realising he might have offended you, he was quick to add, “I don’t know, I kept making jokes, and I kept pushing my feelings onto you, thinking that one day they may be reciprocated. Then you go and do something to make me think that they are.”

You could feel your breath catch in your throat at his confession, but the slight pull against your hold told you he was prepared to flee once more.

“Don’t,” you pulled him towards you, not realising the strength with which you did. Instead of him stumbling into you, you managed to pull yourself closer to Minho as he resisted. Closer than before, you could once again smell him, his scent never changing even after hours of practice, he still smelled good to you.

“Don’t what? Get my hopes up? Have feelings for you?” He whispered, his eyes trained on yours before they flickered to your lips. “Because I do. And I can’t do anything about it. It’s been months. I tried to tell myself it’s not useful, that I should be indifferent. And yet, here I am miles away from even reaching that indifference.”

You couldn’t feel the way his heart sped up at the small smile you offered him, but you could see the light in his eyes as you stood up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

With a low moan he parted away from you, your slightly parted lips red and bruised from his kiss, breath coming out in pants - you wanted more, and you decided to ask for it.

“Minho,” you called his name sweetly, watching carefully as he opened his eyes, the soft look in them almost making you falter. But the heat in your stomach and the way you could feel the palms of your hands sweating over his sweater pushed you to vocalise your thoughts to him.

“Hm?” His hand still held onto the back of your neck. You shivered in pleasure at the way his thumb subconsciously traced circles around the sensitive point underneath your earlobe.

“If I asked you to fuck me, right here right now in this dance studio, would you do it?” You felt your breath catch in your throat, the courage leaving you as soon as the words left your mouth. His silence was concerning, and for the first time in your life, you felt like burying yourself underneath the earth. Cursing at your own stupidity, you breathed out a sigh. “Ah, look - forget I said anything. Let’s just -”

Minho couldn’t believe his ears, the way you asked him such a filthy question after having kissed him like that, your hands digging into his shoulders, your body moulded onto his made him bashful. He knew what the answer would be, no doubt, but before he gave in to his wishes, he needed to make sure that you knew what you were asking of him.

“You -” he cleared his throat, his voice coming out raspy. “Are you....?”

You knew what he was going to ask. You haven’t dated him, and you weren’t that close, but you knew him well enough to know how considerate he was of others. Despite his teasing persona and tough exterior, he would always make sure that everyone was alright. And of course, this was no exception.

Not allowing him to think too much about it, and not having the courage to speak about it again, you pushed your lips onto his again, your hands burying themselves into his hair. “Shut up and make me scream your name, Lee Minho.”

He didn’t need you to ask him more than once. Fuelled by your demanding tone, Minho gripped your hips tightly pulling you closer to him, his lips pressed onto yours, his tongue seeking the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him to do as he pleased, you pulled at his hair lightly, eliciting a low groan from him. Pulling away, his eyes hooded with desire, he smirked at you making your knees weak.

“If that is what you want,” his fingers dug into your hips before he turned you around to face the mirror, your back to him. Bending you slightly, he made quick work of your pants, pulling them down in one swift movement. “That is what you get.”

Minho didn’t give you any time to respond before he dropped to his knees, his mouth attaching itself to your clothed cunt. Not wasting time, he sucked at the underwear, soaking it through with his saliva as well as your juices before he pulled away.

“You taste so good. I could sit here and eat you forever,” he hummed, his fingers latching onto the side of your panties, pulling them down. The way you moaned and pressed your hips into his hand asking for more made him forgo tasting you for the time being.

Pulling himself up and you against him, he prodded at your entrance with his fingers, one hand tightly on your hip, the other sliding underneath your sweater, cupping your breast.

“So needy... First you ask me to fuck you into oblivion in the dance studio,” Minho grunted, parting your legs slightly with his knee. “A studio everyone will be in tomorrow with no knowledge of what has happened. That is incredibly dirty,” he softly bit into the smooth flesh of your neck, his tongue flicking to lick the area between bites.

You should’ve felt embarrassed for being so wet without him even having entered you, but the way his fingers prodded at your folds, sliding up and down, coating themselves into your slickness wiped all thoughts away. Pushing your hips back against his hand, desperate to feel more of his long slender fingers in you, around you, you mewled when he found your clit.

“You‘re so wet and ready for me, aren’t you, Y/N?” Bending over you, his clothed dick pushing into the soft flesh of your ass, he whispered lowly, as his finger started to circle your nub softly at first, picking up the pace when you prompted him with your ass.

“All this wetness, just from dancing, hm?” He teased, knowing full well it wasn’t the dancing. Feeling his cock twitch at the prospect of his dancing making you this hot, he pushed harder against your ass, the material of his jeans rubbing against his length.

In the process of bending you over and discarding your bottoms, your top had also risen up, allowing you to feel the soft sweater brush against your skin. The sensitive area of your lower back and ass being caressed by it made you shiver craving more of that. “Minho, more,” you moaned, finding it hard to express yourself.

“More what?” He bent over again, the finger circling at your clit relentlessly flicking at it. You could feel the wetness pooling out of you, making a mess of your inner thighs, but you couldn’t worry about it, not when you had a mission.

“Please,” you begged with shaky fingers grabbing at your top, going to pull it off of yourself. The clumsy movement only served to push the material above your breasts, finding it hard to take it off completely without pulling away from Minho’s fingers. Minho paused slightly, his fingers lazily pressing on your clit, the change in movement making you whimper in need.

“Want me to help?” He asked amusedly and you prepared to tell him off for ruining the mood until he pulled his fingers away from your pussy. The room was not well lit as you didn’t turn on the lights, and it was dark enough outside to make it difficult for you to see anything.

Despite that, you could see as clear as day how wet his fingers were, the shine of your slickness making you flush for a second.

“Mmm, look at this,” he scissored his fingers in the air, a string of fluid forming between his fingers as he did so. “Such a naughty girl. You’ve coated my fingers completely,” he drawled, and you watched enthralled as he slowly brought them to his mouth, slipping them in. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, the heat increasing in your abdomen as he pulled the fingers out, his breathy moan as he tasted you on his hand, his lips smacking as if you were the tastiest thing he’s ever had.

“Delicious,” Minho purred, bending over you. You were so focused on him tasting you that you forgot what set you off in the first place. When he bent over and the material of his sweater brushed over you, making your knees buckle, you begged him to touch you again. Your need to feel him against you gripping at your throat.

“Minho,” you breathed, hips circling grinding against his hardened dick. He seemed bigger than before, his tip poking at you through his thick trousers and your toes curled with the knowledge that it was your taste that made him this hard.

“I want you to tell me what you want,” he coaxed, his clean fingers going to unbutton his top. Jerking, you whined your disapproval.

“No, keep it on. I want to feel it,” you blurted, afraid that he would take it off before you could express yourself.

When he paused, his hand hovering over his buttons, you felt the embarrassment wash over you. You were never into sensory play, but there was something about that sweater that made you crave the feeling of it. You wanted to know what it would feel like for it to brush against your back, teasing the sensitive skin there as he fucked you from behind.

It didn’t take long for Minho to catch onto your wishes seeing as he already had an inkling about your preference towards his sweater. He's seen you stare at it multiple times, each time more and more insistent. It was the reason he started wearing it more often, each time more adventurous than the previous one.

At first he wore a top underneath, but as he slowly figured out you were inclined towards him more as he wore it, he wondered if he could push it. The last few times Minho forwent the top, choosing to only wear the sweater buttoned up as a top. He didn’t miss your stares, or the increase in breathing whenever he moved, displaying more of his skin.

He also didn’t miss the way you subconsciously started to touch him more. If he were to admit to himself, you were not wrong, his sweater did feel like heaven over his skin. The warm material brushing over his nipples made him twitch in his pants on more than one occasion. That paired with the brush of your hands on his arm from time to time prompted him to go and relieve himself in the toilets quite often.

“Ah,” Minho sang, smirking at you in the mirror. Gulping, you stilled, wondering what was playing on his mind. “You dirty girl, you want to feel my sweater don’t you?” He asked, his hips pushing into you.

You couldn’t hide it anymore, the heat underneath your skin and your wanton pussy clenching at air made you nod, thrilled at the prospect of having your wishes granted.

Minho never thought he’d be so turned on at the thought, but as soon as you nodded, he felt something shift in him, an animalistic growl leaving his throat. Not in a rush, he looked at you darkly, the smirk not leaving his features.

“I see, well… who am I to not grant you your wishes?” he asked, the hand hovering above your ass falling down onto the skin making it sting. Yelping, you arched your back at the feeling, grinding your hips into his hand as he kneaded the flesh. “First, I need to hear you beg.”

Desperate for his touch, you obeyed, your eyes locked onto his, your flushed face proof of your desires. “Minho please, let me feel you,” you tried, but when he made no move apart from his fingers settling deeper into the flesh of your ass, you grunted again. “Please, I want to feel your sweater touching me as you fuck me hard from behind,” you pleaded – propriety be damned. You let all the cats out of the bag, not feeling in the least ashamed of what you were feeling.

“That is it, no need to say more,” he rasped, your words reaching his cock making him tense. His hands pulled away from your ass, reaching for his belt and unzipping his trousers.

You couldn’t see him in the mirror due to the angle but when you tried to turn around wanting to see him, you felt another sting to your left ass cheek. “No peeking, Y/N, you wanted sensory play, that is all you will be getting today,” Minho warned and you breathed out slowly.

Grabbing your shoulder roughly, he pulled you to him, straightening your back. Not quite touching, he pulled your top, prompting you to lift your arms so he could pull it off you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He panted, his arm wrapping around your front, pulling you flush against him. “Widen your legs.”

You bucked your hips against his crotch, enjoying the way his hardness poked at the sensitive area of your ass. You obeyed him, spreading your legs open, your head leaning back onto his shoulder. Minho’s demanding tone contrasted greatly with the affectionate way his fingers danced along the sensitive skin tracing the pattern of your ribs. You shuddered under his touch, your core throbbing at the teasing and comforting feel of his woollen sweater against your back.

“Minho, that’s it, yes,” you prompted him, arching your back to feel as much of him as you could. His teeth were still nipping at your neck when his hand found your nipple, deft fingers circling it in slow motion making the skin pucker.

“Dirty girl, you like the feel of the sweater don’t you?” He asked, testing his theory by pinching your nipple at the same time as he pressed himself harder into you.

The material roughly rubbed onto your skin with the movement making you shiver. You grabbed onto his wrist tightly pressing yourself further into him. The length of his cock freed from its confines slipped between the two of you, and you could feel its searing temperature on your lower back. Smiling impishly, you decided to taunt him, circling your hips in a slow movement rubbing him between your ass cheeks and his own abdomen.

Hearing Minho’s low moan vibrate in your eardrums as he buried his face in your hair spurred you on, your hips rocking faster, showing him exactly why you loved his sweater so much.

“Ah, look at you rutting so desperately, does that feel good?” You asked, your hand reaching behind you to grip as much of his ass as you could, digging your fingers, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know now, why your sweater drives me so mad whenever you wear it?” You punctuated each word with more friction.

The low groans and the increasing wetness against your ass told you what you needed, but you wanted him to respond. “Minho,” you whispered, your attention on his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched up as if he was concentrating hard, the hand on your breast gripping tightly at the flesh.

Hearing you call his name so sweetly, after you’ve uttered pure filth, got his attention. Struggling to keep his breathing leveled and his mind clear, with your hips still brushing against his dick, Minho found it hard to not come then and there, so he opened his eyes. Looking at you, he could see your whole naked form in the mirror. The way your hips rolled enticingly, your spread legs giving him a full view of your wet mound, he could barely contain himself from shoving himself into you until he bottomed out.

It had been a long time coming – your relationship, the tension between the two of you. With each touch of skin in class, each teasing remark he would throw at you only to be countered immediately.

“Minho, eyes on me,” you said softly, your hips ceasing their movement, your hand slowly sliding away from his ass, dancing above the dip of your belly button before slowly sliding towards your needy clit.

The position you were in made it easy for your middle finger to slide in between your pussy lips, your finger expertly finding your clit. You’ve done this more than you could count, touched yourself, but you’ve never done it in front of anyone, and the thought both excited you and made you nervous at the same time. The slow circles you traced around your nub before you added more pressure shot a jolt of electricity up your spine.

“Ah, so good, Minho,” you didn’t know where that came from, never having uttered his name whilst you were pleasuring yourself, but it seemed to have done the trick.

Hearing you moan his name so wantonly, your hand working shamelessly away at your pussy on your own, your soft warm lips wetly mouthing his name in pleasure even though he was barely touching you, switched something in him. With your feet so lewdly spread open, it was easy for Minho to mannouver you so that he could slip his cock between your folds, the tip reaching where your fingers thrummed at your clit.

The sudden movement jolted you out of your own world, the pleasurable haziness clearing off your mind, and you suddenly realised what you were doing. You couldn’t feel ashamed, he wouldn’t allow you to, the sight you’ve just presented him with was to be engraved in his memory forever.

“Tell me, do you mutter my name whilst you come all over your own fingers, think of me when you’re pleasuring yourself like that?” he murmured languidly, moving his cock between your folds, coating it in your juices. “You’re so wet, you are after all a dirty girl, aren’t you?” He groaned, his hand letting go of your breasts, reaching out to grab his own dick.

His breathing stilled when your hand movement stopped, your heavy breathing being the only thing he could hear in the stillness of the air around you. Wondering if he’d gone too far, he went to let you go but you wouldn’t allow him to, your soft voice calling out to him. “Minho.”

With his attention back on you, you could clearly see in the reflection the way his eyes trailed over every inch of your skin available, the intense gaze only softened by the way he bit his lip softly. “It’s ok to be as rough as you want,” you reassured him, craving the uncouth Minho from a few minutes ago.

Your words gave him the permission that he needed, and within a second, something shifted behind his eyes, a darker look glazing over before he slid himself within you with a powerful thrust. Bottomed out and almost pressed all the way against the mirror, you could only let out a scream of pleasure, your hands fighting to steady yourself.

Minho stilled, fighting hard to not come straight away. Your teasing riled him up enough that he was hard and ready to go. Once your warm walls swallowed his cock, fighting to adjust to his size, squeezing against the intrusion, he felt his cock twitch within you, desperate to pound you senseless.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well,” Minho praised softly, sliding himself slowly in and out of you, gauging your reactions in the mirror. Your eyes were closed, a silent moan painted on your lips.

“Want me to go faster?” He asked, slapping his hips against yours aggressively. “I want to stay like this forever, fucking you and filling you up with my cum.”

The implications of his own words hit him and he slowed to a lazier pace. Even at that speed, he was still hitting your sensitive area, and you felt the pressure building up in your abdomen.

“Can I come inside?” He asked tentatively, his voice hoarse.

Your mind was far away riddled with pleasure, your words barely coming out in a full sentence. “Minho, fuck, yes, fill me up with your cum,” you groaned, your voice breaking out into a moan when you felt his fingers anchor themselves in the flesh of your hips, his movements frenzied.

He was grunting just as loudly behind you, the material of his top now sticking to his own skin as much as yours, irritating the sensitive area. Snapping his hips frantically, the sound of your skin slapping together reverberated throughout the dance room.

“You like that hm, you like the idea of being filled up with my cum, don’t you?” Minho panted, bending forward. You yelped, hands shooting forward to prevent yourself from falling. His dick pounding into you at a deeper angle made your skin tingle with electricity as he hit the tip of your cervix repeatedly, the pleasure crashing over you in waves.

You didn’t realise when you leaned onto the mirror, the sheen of sweat on your hands making them slip with every thrust of his hips into you. Struggling to keep yourself upright, you arched your back. The movement caused your inner muscles to clench around him, gripping his cock tightly within your velvety walls, breaking the fast paced rhythm. Minho grunted, his need to carry on fucking you into tomorrow overpowering any other thought. Realising you were in a precarious position, close to crumbling onto the floor, he stopped moving, a look of worry crossing over his face.

“Are you ok?” He said, voice breaking from using it so aggressively earlier.

You nodded and spread your legs further apart in an attempt to give yourself more stability. Seeing you struggle Minho grabbed your left hand in his, his other letting go of your hip to encircle your waist. Without a word, he slowly moved you closer to the mirror, his lips peppering soft kisses on the sweaty skin of your shoulder. His dick still being lodged deep into your pussy drew a whimper out of your throat as it slowly pushed further in along with his movements.

“Hold on,” he softly instructed, placing your hand flush against the mirror, holding it in place with his own. The hand around your waist slid further down to your sensitive folds and anchored you on it like a harness. The position left you placing your whole weight on his hand, the pressure of his palm against your inflamed clit sending sparks up your spine, making you dizzy.

“Ah, fuck, Minho,” you croaked while grinding your cunt onto his hand, your slickness coating his wrist dripping down his fingers. From this position, you were completely at his mercy, the only thing that kept you secure was his hold on you.

Minho groaned, your name being the only thing on his lips. The more pressure he put against your clit, the further you leaned into his hand, your smooth warm walls contracting around him.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, thrusting his hips against yours once, eliciting a shuddered breath out of you. “You like being handled as you’re stuffed full of my cock, hm? Look how tightly you’re gripping onto me as if you’re afraid I'd let you go,” he said, his lips ghosting over your sweaty skin, making goosebumps appear with each pointed word.

“Do you want me to move?” He carried on, lazily slipping his length out of your wet folds until only the tip remained in you.

The reflection in the mirror caught his attention. His breath caught in his throat at the view, your slightly bent over body, your hand on the mirror clenched into a fist tightly secured by his larger one, his hand around your midriff covering your mound from view.

The way your eyes were closed, a look of pleasure etched onto your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweaty forehead covered the strands of hair that made it onto your face, lips red and swollen from biting them too much made him pause. Minho could see the way your breasts slightly juggled from the movement of your own hips against his arm

He couldn’t see your pussy or the way it was wrapped around him, but he could feel your wetness on his skin, his entire hand bathed in it, your velvety folds grinding against his palm. If he didn’t want to make you come first, he would have filled you with his cum then and there. You were beautiful, you looked thoroughly fucked, you wanted more, and you were his.

Needing to share this moment, Minho kissed your neck once more, slightly blowing on the overheated skin. “Open your eyes,” he coaxed, his hand on your wrist squeezing lightly to garner your attention. “Dance with yourself in the mirror, Y/N,” he softly instructed. “Look how beautiful you look, all like that, sweaty and lewdly spread like that - and only for me.”

Obeying him, you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes glazed over with lust, the sight urging the fire underneath your skin. You immediately honed into the way his hips lazily moved, feeling the way he slid in and out of you, deep within your pussy.

The lewd squelching sounds that reverberated through the darkened room paired with the languid kisses he placed on your skin forced your inner walls to spasm in pleasure, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge - his movements paired with the way your mound rubbed against his arm drawing your orgasm out of you with a quick thrust of his hips.

“Fuck Minho, I’m going to come. Shit,” your eyes rolled back as your body came undone, your muscles tensing and tremors wrecked through your body from head to toe.

Minho felt you spasm around him, your pussy gripping onto him in a vice like, your wails of pleasure spurring him on. With an unrestrained growl, he tightened his grip on you, the hand on your mound pressed roughly onto your clit bearing down on it to prolong the peak of your orgasm. “You’re already a mess, wetting my dick like that, let yourself go, baby,” he demanded, his hips snapping into you at a rapid pace at the same time as he was watching you fall apart for him in the mirror.

“You’re beautiful like that, coming all over my cock. Shall I make more of a mess of you?” Minho asked, feeling his own dam burst and, with a last deep thrust, he spilled his cum deep into you, painting your walls, claiming you as his. You whined as you felt him come, the strangled noises ripped out of your throat as your sensitive cunt milked him of the last of his drops.

“Let me taste you,” Minho said, his voice hoarse from the high he’s just experienced. You drew in a sharp breath. His unexpected request made you stutter, and you wondered if he realised what he was asking. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you thought you did not hear him well, but when you turned around, your shaky legs forcing you to brace yourself against him for support, his serious expression left you speechless.

“You– you’re serious.”

It wasn’t a question, you were certain he meant it, but you just needed to express your feelings at this brazen statement. Not knowing how to react, you thought about it for a moment, your eyes trailing from his eyes down to his mouth. The moment you imagined his lips on you, sucking on your cunt, drawing out his own cum, you felt yourself getting hotter.

Minho nodded, noticing the way your eyes found his lips, shifting from one foot to another. Smirking to himself, he decided to give you one final push, knowing that if you allowed him this, you would not regret it.

Licking his lips, he breathed out slowly, trying one more time. “Can I clean you up? Look how messy it’s getting,” he pointed to the floor where a small amount of his cum dripped down it. It was only a few drops but the sight of it made you moan, your mind already settled.

“Yes,” you said automatically, taking a step closer to him. “Clean me up, you’ve made a mess, now you need to clean up after yourself, bad boy.”

You weren’t sure where the courage came from. Maybe it was from the way he drew a sharp intake of breath, maybe it was the way his hands immediately found the curvature of your hips, gently massaging the area, or maybe it was the way he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing to the inside of your thighs.

His deft fingers traced the soft skin, his face was so close to your pussy you could feel his breath on your sensitive nub. “Open your legs wider for me, love,” Minho prompted, his hands guiding you.

You whimpered as the cold air hit your core directly. The initial hesitation you felt being so exposed to his eyes didn’t last long, as he dove straight in with a hungry slurp, his tongue slipping right between your folds. The suddenness of his movement made your knees buckle, a loud moan being ripped out of your throat.

The lewd sounds from his mouth on you loudly echoed in your mind, fuelling the build up pleasure from his tongue lapping at you. You could feel the pressure of his hands onto your thighs, certain that he would leave bruises.

“Ah, Minho.”

He parted from your pussy with one last lick, his tongue flattened brushing your overly sensitive clit making you buckle.

“Steady,” he laughed, his soft voice sending shivers up your spine. He let go of your legs and interlaced his fingers with yours supporting your weight. You didn’t know if you had the courage to look down, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, but the angle you were both at proved to be an inconvenience.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, so soft and you taste so good,” he dove in for a tentative lick, the tip of his tongue circling your clit. Unable to hold back, your eyes snapped down, his words almost enough to make you come.

“Are you ready, love?” Minho asked, locking eyes with you. His face was shiny and wet from both your juices, but the glint in his eyes told you he was far from done. Barely able to breathe, let alone speak, you threw him an uncertain look, unsure what he meant by asking you that.

“What do you- ahhh!”

Minho had no inhibition, his mouth finding your entrance without a hesitation, prodding at you scooping up his own mess with his tongue all the while massaging your walls. His hands let go of yours and you felt your world shift for a moment before he tightly grabbed your ass, burying himself deeper into your dripping pussy.

He didn’t let you breathe, licking and prodding like a starved man. His tongue traced your lips lightly, applying pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Minho was determined to clean all of you out, he prodded you in all the right ways to make you approach your second orgasm.

You felt it building up the moment his tongue slipped into you once more acting as a substitute of his dick earlier, swirling inside of your warmth, tracing the inside of your velvet walls. The familiar feeling of needing to pee crawled up your spine until you felt yourself let go with a loud groan as tears gathered in your eyes from the intensity.

“Shit, I’m coming,” you let your head fall back as your hands found their way into his hair, holding him to you as you rode out your orgasm. The intensity of it almost made your knees fold under you and you would have fallen over if not for his hands holding onto your ass, anchoring you upwards.You felt his tongue languidly lapping at your clit, guiding you through your peak, the warmth travelling all the way down to the tip of your toes.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt, “give me more of you.” He lapped at your sensitive pussy until he felt you stop spasming, your whine of displeasure telling him you were too sensitive. Savouring your taste, Minho breathed out, his tongue licking your wetness off his lips, the feeling of satisfaction washing over him. He had never imagined you would let go with so little inhibition and the thought made him giddy. He made you come twice.

Out of breath and bodies slick with sweat, you pulled away from him, your eyes already searching for your clothes. The embarrassment of what happened a few seconds before washed over you like a douse of cold water. Having sex with him was one thing, but asking him to go that far and enjoying it so much that you came twice filled you with horror at what he may think of you.

It took him a few seconds to gather his bearings, the aftermath of his orgasm paired with both of your tastes on his tongue made him dizzy and euphoric. As soon as he heard your frenzied shuffle, his eyes wandered over to you, springing up, realising you were about to flee.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asked cautiously, going to reach out for you. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest at the dejected look you offered him. He didn’t know whether he’d done something wrong or if it was something else. All he knew was that he couldn’t allow you to leave like that. Not when his heart hurt only by seeing the slight quiver of your lips.

“Please, talk to me,” Minho pleaded when you refused to respond. Despite your aversion to vocalise your thoughts, you didn’t make a move to stop him when he engulfed you in his arms.

Regardless of how sweaty and cold you were, you allowed yourself that moment, closing your eyes, you let yourself enjoy the warmth his hug provided, basking in the safety of his arms. For a few moments neither of you spoke — both taking in the feeling of peace that followed after your intense moment. To you, it felt as if being in his arms nothing could reach you, not even the tumultuous conflicted feelings rushing through your mind.

You knew you owed him an explanation, he’d been nothing but considerate towards you, yet, you’ve reacted this brashly without an ounce of regard towards his feelings. Gathering the courage to speak, your head buried into his sweater, the same stupid sweater that started it all, you took a deep breath in allowing his scent to calm down your racing heart.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you muttered, hands reaching out to grip tightly at the material covering his back. Hearing his sharp inhale, you hurried to apologise thinking you’ve hurt him, only to be shushed gently.

“You don’t have to apologise, please. If anything it’s me who needs to apologise,” Minho countered, his voice caring despite the fear coursing through his body. Had he gone too far?

Unable to believe what you were hearing, you pulled away from him, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of deceit. Meeting his eyes stole your breath. His eyes were clear, albeit a bit sad, but the soft, almost dejected smile he offered you – an attempt to make you feel better, pressed on your heart.

Ashamed of your own doubt towards his feelings, you looked down, your fingers toying with his top. “It’s not just this stupid sweater,” you muttered, closely resembling a petulant child.

Minho looked at you in confusion, before he finally understood what you meant. He tried his best not to laugh, but the ridiculousness of the situation got to him, and he let a snicker escape.

“Wait, you think–” Minho carried on, the sadness he felt at the thought of you rejecting him replaced with utter happiness. “You think, I think, this” he motioned between the two of you, “happened because of a stupid sweater?” He couldn’t help himself, the way you looked at him so offended made you look so endearing he just had to kiss you.

His lips first pressed lightly onto the frown etched onto your forehead, kissing the lines away before they softly peppered your whole face in soft pecks. Pausing right above your lips, his hot breath fanning over your face, Minho whispered softly, “This was never about a sweater, nor was it about fulfilling any fantasies - though I would love to do that for as long as you allow me to,” you couldn’t help but shiver at the implications of his words, “I genuinely like you. But,” he paused to take a sharp intake of breath as if what he was about to tell you next hurt him, “if you don't, and all you want is this physical relationship…”

You were prepared to protest, but he shushed you softly. “Let me just say this before I lose the nerve to. If all you want is a quick fuck, I can also give you that. It would hurt, but I could only hold onto the hope that by being close this way, one day you will see me as more.”

Your heart clenched at hearing his words, you never thought he would put himself down in such a way that he would never assume that you liked him back the way he did.

“Minho,” you said, demanding his attention. Your pointed voice rang loudly in the empty studio, a complete contrast to his own voice.

“Hm?” He asked distractedly, his face was still close to yours, his soft lips ghosting over your own. Without saying a word, you motioned for him to wait. Gulping, you looked down at the sweater he was still wearing, the light sheen of sweat covering his soft skin. Resisting the urge to press your lips to his collarbones, you focused on his buttons, slowly undoing them one by one.

“Woah, Y/N, what-?” he looked at you incredulously, his eyes wide, however, he wasn’t making a move to stop you. Shushing him roughly, you undid the last button, trying your hardest to not revel in the way his skin felt underneath your palms as you pushed it off his shoulders. You had been right, he was not wearing anything underneath it, not even a vest.

Allowing your eyes to soak in what the sweater had been masking all this time, you clenched your fists to your sides, refusing yourself the need to touch him. You were aware that if you did, it was game over.

“What are you doing?” Minho tried again, his heart beating rapidly in his chest at the look you threw him. The fire in your eyes, your hands glued to your sides, lips pursed - you looked beautiful, and if you hadn’t kissed him next, he would’ve without a doubt.

“Shut up,” you said before you pressed your lips to his, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your naked and cold breasts pushed against his warm skin and you both shuddered at the difference in temperature. It took him a moment to gather his bearings and respond, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist pulling you further into him.

As you moulded your bodies and lips together, something shifted between the two of you. As fiery and frenzied as the kiss was, your hands never stayed for too long in one place touching everything you both could, commiting each and every curve to memory. You could almost taste the feelings between the two of you, the connection that was already there but you were both too blind to see it.

Pulling away from him, you finally rested your hands on his chest, enjoying the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat, and knowing it was as rapid as yours made you smile. Finally opening your eyes, you found his already on you, a dazed look on his face.

“Don’t be stupid, as much as I like that sweater,” you laughed at the ridiculousness of this whole situation, “and I would love for us to be physical, I don’t want anything more than I want you, feeling what you are feeling right now for me. I like you too, stupid man with a stupid sweater.”

Even though you knew you wouldn’t be rejected, your heart still stopped waiting for his next answer. The seemingly myriad of emotions crossing his face made you smile, until he settled onto one; the usual cocky one he had when he spoke to you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him, ready to slap him if he dared to say anything inappropriate.

“Minho,” you warned as he pulled you into him again.

He simply laughed before he responded by kissing your forehead lightly. “It’s good that you like me. Because I had 4 more sweaters similar to that one ready to come out and try to woo you.”

Mᴀɪɴ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

#lee know #stray kids #lee minho #lee minho x reader #stray kids x reader #skz #lee knowxreader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #lee know fluff #stray kids smut #houseofincantations

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scintillasofbeomgyu · 2 years

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ꐑ texts with roomie!taehyun

pairing: kang taehyun x reader. genres: text au, crack, fluff, roommate au. warnings: knives mentioned, death elluded to as a joke, food mentioned, looney bin mentioned as a joke, cursing. an: smth i made to get on mina’s nerves and actually enjoyed (act surprised)

general taglist: @oifelixcmerebrou @00-baejin-05 @chaoticdreaminisode @luvrjn @todorokiskitten @acciomylove @vantxx95 @bambisgirl @soobin-chois @yoonzinoswife (send an ask to be added!)

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #moacabin #kpc.creators #houseofincantations #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #txt smau #txt fluff #txt crack #taehyun smau #taehyun fluff #taehyun crack #txt x reader #taehyun x reader

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randombtsprincessa · 3 years

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Body Cry

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader

Words: 4.5k

Genre: Smutty Smut Smut, Fluff, F2L

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: Jimin has an unhealthy obsession...and it has specifically to do with your breasts.

Playlist - BKBROWN - ♥ Mono.Mental - The sun is gone Luminaire - Body Cry

Content Advisory: I am a mushball because it’s Jimin, PARK JIMIN, mentions of porn, mentions of male masturbation, fantasizing, too much focus of breasts, instagram lol, Chim is whipped, MC likes to listen (what? it happens), Boy is all over the place but it’s cute, discussion of fantasies, clothed thigh riding, nipple play, kissing, riding, unprotected sex (let’s be safe folksies).

A/N: I had this in the drafts for @yoonia Dia’s bday for like ever!! Normally I’d have stretched this out to include multiple smut scenes but I decided to keep it short and take the rest of them in drabbles as and when inspiration hits. I know I said I was gonna sleep on it, but I have a mask on and I got impatient. Anyway, a HUGE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS ON HERE !!

Jimin has an unhealthy obsession.

It’s a sinful secret that burns through his core and soul, arousing and shaming him at the same time. It makes his face flush, painting his ears and cheeks crimson. Heat emanates from his neck; enough to let everyone within a foot radius know that something was up with him, but it also makes his stomach clench, thighs tightening against the sudden wake of his cock.

And it has to do with breasts.

Okay, it has to do specifically with your breasts.

Jimin had known you since you were school children; with toothy grins and lunches shared on the playground, with scrapes and unsavory words exchanged equally as you both grew up. With the passing of high school, pressure of the future dragged you away in its clutches, enabled by the world and parents.

During puberty, Jimin had faced his awakening while you blossomed with your own - a fact that Jimin was distinctly aware of despite the facade of banter and friendly catch-ups.

You both moved away to dorms for college but social media helped Jimin keep in touch with everything that was you. It was then, when he noticed his preoccupation with the blooming orbs upon you.

As a healthy but busy male, Jimin had his fair share of porn to watch and jack off to. But it was when he was scrolling lazily through your instagram after an orgasm, that he caught himself at it. Usually, when he looked for…’material’, his go to was any combination with ‘boobs’, so when - sleepy and lax though he was - his eyes drifted first over your smiling face and fell to your shirt (a white button up, professional and stretching to confine your chest) he blinked, eyes focusing.

Jimin slowed after that, experimenting and noting how each picture he passed, his eyes would inadvertently catch on your chest, taking in eyefuls and hoping for handfuls.

That night, Jimin accepted his thing for you, if only still over your body. He couldn’t really help it. You had been cute in school but now you were just beautiful.

It was bad enough that you were in a different college but from then, Jimin began fantasizing about you. He salivated over each curve, thrummed for every smile and his fingers eagerly replied to every message.

He wondered, late at night if you could feel his desperation for your attention when he texted back too quickly; if you could perceive his sighs of pleasure and groans of relief when he spilled over his hand thinking of you. He wondered if you could tell that he could picture you perfectly, your gorgeous tits bouncing in his face when you rode him, gripping them in his hands as he plunged his length into your heat, cupping them gently as he feasted on them.

He groaned again.

Yep, Jimin definitely had an unhealthy obsession.

It didn’t abate over the next three years, not that Jimin actively tried to get rid of the fog that clouded him at any mention of you. Soon enough, he was back home, school friends back together and getting to all sorts of crap that fresh out of college kids got up to – high on youth and adulthood freedom.

The day you all got together, clumps of people coming in together, Jimin became acutely aware that proximity was ten times worse for his thing for you. He saw you arriving without being prodded, swinging into the diner in a silky shirt and skirt.

His first reaction was a huge beaming smile, eyes nearly blinding when you squealed his name and charged into his arms. He had no time to prepare before he had his arms around you tight, almost lifting you from the force of your hug. “____!” He squealed right back, squeezing you when he noticed it.

You were hugging him, pressed right and tight up against him and he could feel everything. He could feel the tickling of your hair at his chin, smell your perfume, touch your skin and right against his chest, was pressed the subject of his dreams. It was the worst time, but his dick was already rustling its sheets, peeking up to see what was up.

He backed up quickly, offering you a smile that he hoped you wouldn’t see through. “Holy fuck, ____, you’ve grown.”

Shit thing to say, because of course you’d grown, he had seen you through the process. You laughed him off, thankfully. “I did,” You looked down at yourself, hands clasping his own lightly. “You did too.”

He didn’t see your eyes roving over him; too busy zeroing in on the way the small lace details of your shirt looked against you.

“Oh my god, hi!” Jimin dropped your hands, letting you saunter over to a few other girl friends of yours. He roughly forced himself to not watch you sway away, turning his head to the counter. He needed something stronger than diner juice and coffee.

It was a heaven of torture, being close to you. All your friends had decided that just before their real lives began and became fraught with work and bills and deadlines, it was only fitting to live to the full. So, clubs, bars, partying and the usual frat experience was the new norm for Jimin. You went about your own oblivious way, carrying on the friendship between you and him that had frayed after high school.

You snuggled against him, pressing against his arm and legs when space was small because you were just that comfortable with him and he was loath to move away and put any distance between you.

But it also scared him to bits to tell you that every brush of your skin made him want to scream, to want to grab your hand and drag you to his house or car or even a bathroom if it meant he could put his hands on you. He was afraid of your rejection, of you moving away by yourself, simply saying you felt nothing for him, and that he was one of your closest friends and that was it.

So he suffered through the shivers that trailed his spine when you breathed too close. He would sigh away his pain when he felt your soft mounds against his hard planes, wanting nothing more than to have the right to have them there.

He would lie back in his bed, in the bedroom where you had traipsed through when you were kids, smiling at the memories before the need grew too much. When it did, he would curl his hand around his length, sometimes in his bed, mostly in the shower where he hoped to god the water muffled his grunts of your name, as the steady rush of the shower carried away the evidence of his feelings for you.

Because now with you so close, it was obvious his fascination and need for you wasn’t skin deep. It ran deeper and he didn’t want to sit next to you feeling deprived any longer.

He would tell you…as soon as he gathered the courage to.

The dress you wore was the same color as the blood that had drained from his face when he set eyes on you. Your hair was rumpled, messy in a way that he could just imagine you rolling out of bed and dipping into the fabric, looking scrumptious even first thing in the morning.

You stretched out your hand, a paper cup of chocolate proffered to him. “I remembered how much you like this better than coffee.” You sing-sang and Jimin didn’t have the heart to say that he had developed a tolerance for caffeine over long, long nights.

Jimin took a swig of the thick, melted drink; relishing in the bitter sweetness of it as you walked into his home, undoing the scarf and coat and hanging them up. The red that dripped around you almost made him choke the drink back up but he kept his composure, only praying to whoever was listening that he didn’t show his excitement.

“It’s been so long.” You muttered, walking over to the far wall of pictures, mostly of Jimin as a kid, surrounded by friends, with you by him.

“Keep swinging by, I’m sure mom would love that.” He took another sip, raking his free hand through his hair.

“She would; she admittedly likes me more.” You shot a wink over your shoulder that had Jimin rolling his eyes, even though he knew it was true.

“Come on, the pizza is already here, getting cold.”

Jimin ushered you into the kitchen, seating you at the table and turning on the TV to the movie he’d picked out. Normally, he would be able to do this on the couch, but his mom had a strange rule of keeping food off her vintage sofa set. It was only for the ‘guests’. Anyone else remotely close to the family would be entertained in the kitchen or in the yard.

It had been too long since Jimin tried to point out that the rule was stupid. He’d just have to find someplace for himself.

He turned, eyes moving to where you had sat and crossed your legs in one of his mother’s dining chairs. Your hands were already opening the first pizza box, eager to see if he remembered your favorite toppings (he did). Your neckline had plunged a little, the hem of your dress lying draped over your knees but he got enough of a tantalizing glimpse of the lines of your thighs and the dip of your cleavage.

“Jimin move!” You leaned to one side, pizza slice in your mouth. The juxtaposition of his desire vs. cooing over your adorableness warred in him but he sat down quickly, letting you watch the thriller he’d picked with his eyes firmly set on either the pizza or the TV.

“Is something wrong?”

He hummed, looking into your confused eyes. “What?”

“You’re staring.” You slowed, looking down at yourself and with a pang of horror, Jimin realized that his mission of being respectful had crashed and burned. He must’ve been staring straight at your chest. Could the ground just swallow him right about now?

“Did I get something on the dress?”

“No, of course not…sorry, I was just thinking…” He stammered, quickly looking at the TV to see – fuck him – the main characters getting busy. Why did movies like these think kids were going to start bonking when there’s a crazy bastard around with an axe?

“Oh, thinking about my boobs?”

“Yep, I was – wait what?” Jimin turned to look at you quickly, eyebrows raised till his hairline.

Your lips had curled into a smirk, eyes on the TV now, watching the couple still going at it. You gave him an innocent look. “What, you weren’t? Oh, my bad,”

“I…”

Jimin didn’t know where to look. He definitely couldn’t look straight at you, not with those piercing eyes and that wicked smirk pasted on. He definitely wasn’t going to look at the TV – thankfully the sex was over. He chose to look down at his plate. What fascinating things, how had he never noticed his mom had such nice plates?

“It’s fine, chill; I don’t mind.”

He looked up so fast, he was sure his neck might’ve snapped. “You don’t?” he whispered.

Stupid, he should’ve denied it. Now you were going to think he was some pervert. How could he go back to being the goofy childhood friend who could sit next to you without it being awkward?

“I mean, yeah sure…” Your smirk faded into a more natural smile, looking down at the plate too. “I might even like it some.”

Jimin had to be dreaming. “You do?” He whispered again.

You raised your other hand to show a pinch, the gap making him gulp. He could work with that. Wasn’t he already planning to tell you of his feelings? This lunch date had been an exercise, after all. He could go straight for it.

“Well…”

You were waiting, your body was angled towards him, eyes impish but attentive to what he had to say. He could do this. All he had to say was a simple “I like you a lot. Think we can go on a date sometime?” Two simple sentences, one very natural question; he had this.

“I’ve been jerking off to you for three years, fuck ____.”

He so did not fucking have this.

His mouth clamped down and it was all he could do to not put his hands on his lips to smack them shut.

You stared, watching his eyes boggling, cheeks flushing…transforming into a ripe bright tomato in mortification. Instead of simply getting to your feet and leaving like he expected you to do, you leaned forward a bit.

“Tell me.”

Jimin swallowed painfully before choking out a ‘what’.

“You know,” You waved a hand vaguely in front of you. “Tell me what you thought about when you,” you gestured further.

“You…you want me to tell you about my fantasies about you?”

This had to be a joke. Either he was dreaming or this was a cruel joke. There was no way he was lucky enough to have the fucking girl of his dreams sitting in front of him, even after being told she was the subject of his wank-bank, and wanting to know about those wank material.

“Go on,” You urged and he coughed, stalling by chugging half his bottle of water, heavily aware that ____ was still waiting patiently. He cleared his throat.

“I, um…I think about…” He paused. Tits sounded too vulgar, right? Boobs probably sounded silly? “…your breasts.”

“I know that.” You said.

“Right,” he could feel the room shrinking on him. “Um, I used to…stare at them when I saw your photos. I liked…how your shirts stretch on your chest.”

He glanced once at the subtle hint of your cleavage, quickly darting his gaze away. “I…I’d start by imagining you in front of me…like, right up close.”

He stuttered to a stop when you stood, mouth gaping and eyes panicked just in case this was the moment you chose to walk right out. Instead, you rounded the table, standing right in front of him. This put his face right at your stomach and what he had been describing.

“Like this?” You asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Jimin nodded, eyes fixed to the two mounds now placed in his line of sight.

“What then?”

Jimin took a moment to lean just a tad bit in. He knew you could feel the motion, your hand on him but he couldn’t help but inhale the scent of the perfume you had on.

It brought back the fog that you reigned over, doubling down on him viciously.

“I want to take your clothes off.” He was so done in; he didn’t even mention that it was one of his fantasies.

“Okay,”

He glanced up at you sharply. “Okay?” He confirmed.

At your nod, he reached behind you, keeping his eyes fixed on yours, watching for any shift or flicker that might indicate you wanted to back out…now…maybe now…maybe now…

His fingers found the slim pick of the zipper, following the trail of it up your spine – your back arched just a little – and then he was pulling the tab down, keeping it slow – giving you plenty of time to tell him no.

So he could get some semblance of sense back into his mind.

The material loosened around your shoulders, straps drooping to your arms, giving him a little more to see of your skin. He hummed in approval.

“Now what?”

It was that point. You were being undressed, Jimin’s own hands doing the deed. If either of you wanted to stop now, it was this moment that you had to speak up. But you were willing, and Jimin would have to be insane to not follow through.

But he would also be an ass if he didn’t ask.

“Are you sure?” He kept his eyes on yours, watching for the barest hint that told him you weren’t.

But all that lingered in your eyes was an intensity that was doing nothing to help his arousal. You leaned against the dinner table, the movement letting the straps of the dress slide further down so he could now see the tops of your breasts over the slinky black bra you had on.

“I am sure. I want to know what you think about when you’re in your bed, your hand around that dick. I want you to do all those things to me - now, if you don’t mind. For god’s sake, Jimin, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move ever since we met back up.”

Jimin had leaned back into the chair by now. Both of his arms were on his knees, gripping tight to keep from grabbing at you before you were done. And goddamn him, if that was what you wanted - nothing was going to stop him from giving it to you…in more ways than one.

When you finished, both of you were staring at each other - daring the other to end the battle first, Jimin finally cracked a smirk of his own.

“Get rid of the dress.” He ordered.

You obeyed without another word.

Your fingers slipped under the straps at your arms, flicking them till your arms were free. You wiggled a little, the flared skirt swishing around your knees while the fabric was pulled down your waist. Then the crimson was pooling at your feet, the simple wedge heels you had on carefully stepping out of the material. Jimin quickly bent down, lifting the soft dress up off the floor and tossing it at another chair.

“Now?” You asked.

Jimin spread his legs further.

“I imagine you naked, riding my thighs while I suck on those gorgeous tits.” He spoke freely now, no more fears of offending you. If you were offended, you were free to slap him and walk out. Even that sounded good to his hazed brain now.

Fortunately, you found his vulgar words hot, your fingers unlatching the clip of the bra at the front. Jimin’s breath nearly escaped his lungs at a dangerous velocity when the contraption was bunched and pulled away from you, dangling from a finger in front of his face. He grabbed it quickly, tossing it on your dress as well to enjoy the unhindered view of you sliding off your panties.

The black thing was shimmied out of with the same grace as the rest of the garments, the scent of your fresh arousal hitting his nose and making his head fall back with a groan.

“You look like you’re going to come before we even do anything.”

Jimin blinked his eyes open when he felt you climbing onto his lap. And then his vision was full of the very two things he’d been dreaming of ever since that fateful night in his dorm room.

Supple, full, peaking and utterly delicious, your breasts were in his face and Jimin’s hands gripped onto the back of your thighs to keep you steady and close to him.

You arranged yourself carefully, his eyes unable to decide where to land when he felt your heat land on the leg of his jeans, wetting the denim.

“Well?” You prompted.

Jimin hummed, still staring at your chest until you began to move just so. Your hips circled, rubbing into his jeans leg. The wetness spread, soaking into the fabric and Jimin was abruptly hit with what was happening right now.

He had you in his house, in his kitchen, on his lap. You were fully naked while he was dressed and you had your pussy rubbing onto his jeans with your tits hanging in his face.

What the fuck did he think he was doing?

Jimin wasted absolutely no more time in pouncing upon you. His mouth latched onto the nipple closest to him, teeth and tongue jumping into action while his arms wrapped possessively around you, yanking you as close as he could.

Aside from a loud gasp of “Fuck, Jimin!” you remained silent, only crooning and whimpering quietly. Your fingers were tangled into his hair, holding him to your skin while his own kneaded into your flesh, pushing you up and down his thighs.

He could feel you flexing on the hardened muscles of his thighs, years of track running paying off to gain fantastic legs that he could bounce you on to your heart’s content.

When he released a bruised, wet nipple with a loud pop, both of you were panting a mile a minute.

He leaned in again, gentle now, taking the other bud into his mouth. Now that the wild need had subsided a little, he could take his time relishing the taste of your skin, deeply breathing the perfume you wore, even taste the bitter tang of the body oil you must have showered with.

To be this close to you, to touch, to know, to sense you like this…it was sending Jimin into a burning overdrive. A dream of dreams, a daze he could walk in forever…

He looked up at you, his thumb rolling the now freed pebbles on your chest.

“You had a lot bottled in there, my friend.” You laughed softly, ending into a satisfied hum when he nudged his knee up in retaliation, the rough denim brushing against your clit.

“It’s been years, ___, of course there’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted to do to you.”

You hummed again, your blunt nails scratching into the base of his neck. It made his eyes shut in contentment.

“What else was there?”

He opened his eyes again.

“You on top, dangling your tits on my face while I pound up into you. You finger yourself, while I watch, putting my cock between your tits…just stuff like that. ” He started out confidently, fading into shyness again at your intense stare.

“‘Just stuff like that’…how much porn did you watch exactly?”

You were standing up before he could reply, his hands grasped loosely in yours. You tugged him up.

It was strange, with you only wearing your wedges and nothing else as you led him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. And yet, it felt so right for them to be doing this. It felt homey - horny as shit, but domestic. He thanked his stars that his parents would be staying with his aunt for the night. God, he really needed to look for a place of his own soon.

When you crossed into his room, the door shut behind you and bolted, Jimin took a moment to grasp your hand gently. He turned you to look at you, properly - some of the lust ridden haze receding from him. As stunning as you were and no matter how much he just really wanted to be touching you, he didn’t want you to think that was all he wanted from you.

On your part, you smiled back at him like the angel he thought you were.

And then you were kissing him.

It started slow. Your palm travelled over his shoulder to his neck, fingers curling into the soft hairs there. Minty soda on your tongue, you pressed against him, while he backed into the wall, soft moans harmonising as he revelled in the warmth you exuded.

“Are you going to fuck me then?” You asked when he drifted to your pulse point, rolling his tongue against the thrum under your skin.

He groaned.

“Can you not call it that, shit.”

He pushed you back till you were climbing onto the bed. A simple small queen, it was barely big enough to fit the both of you on it.

Jimin internally sighed.

A place…he needed another place…

Jimin undid his shirt, yanking it over his head while you slipped the button from his jeans, a dark patch still on the jeans that he saw had you licking your lips.

Fuck.

Jimin gripped your chin, shifting your attention to him as he leaned down to suck your lower lip into his mouth.

“Remind me to eat you out on the dinner table when we’re done here.”

You laughed out loud at that, him joining you while he lowered his underwear and flopped down onto the bed, the springs protesting.

“Climb on.”

You did, gingerly swinging a leg over his pelvis. “You sure, the thing isn’t going to break?”

“If it does, I’m pretty sure my dad is going to be impressed by me,”

You rolled your eyes. “He’d kick you out.”

“Yeah but he would be impressed while doing it.”

Jimin lined himself up with you during the silly exchange, your head shaking already before snapping to attention when he pushed up into you.

Eyes nearly rolling back, Jimin huffed and puffed loudly under you, grip tight on your waist and grip on sanity nothing close. He was going to screw up. He was either going to start pounding up into you before you were ready or just come from the sensation of your hot wall convulsing around him, your juices seeping onto him.

“You don’t have to wait.” You whispered, and then to a whole lot of his delight you positioned yourself exactly the way he imagined you.

Your arms supporting you over his head, back arching from the stretch enough to let your tits hang right near his mouth, perfectly within reach.

You began to move just as he took your word for it. Bracing his feet against his mattress (god, please don’t let the bed break) he thrust up into you, meeting you halfway.

Once they had a rhythm, loud sounds marking it like a mismatched set of percussion he grabbed his chance to dive for your nipples.

His grunts and groans vibrated into your skin, sending tiny shockwaves from your chest, down to where you ground your clit into his pelvic bone.

He came first, naturally, his hands feverishly moving to rub hard into your folds, providing as much blind stimulation as he could to get you over the threshold.

Thankfully he was successful, your own cries increasing till you were shaking on top of him. Jimin moved to slide you onto the bed next to him, turning on his side so you could have some space but still feel him close. The cacophony of banging headboards, creaking beds and loud ‘noises’ over, you took a deep breath through your mouth.

A few seconds passed, the both of you grabbing onto reality before you turned to him.

“Well, I’m impressed. You held out longer than I thought you would with your…fantasies’.”

“I’ll do better next time.” He yawned, not paying attention to what he said until you raised yourself up on your elbows, smirking.

“Next time?”

Jimin blinked, coloring more with embarrassment than fear. “Yeah…if you want to…but not until I find some place for us - uh, for me.”

You hummed, fingers creeping up to brush against his chest. “I don’t know, I kind of was looking forward to being eaten out on your dining table.”

Your sentence ended in a loud scream of laughter as Jimin pounced on you, merciless fingers finding your sides, his own teasing following after.

#bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #btshoneyhive #ksmutclub #silverspoon #houseofincantations #bangtanbathhouse #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts #jimin #jimin x reader

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haechanhues · 2 years

Text

pairing : jungwon x fem!reader (ENHYPEN)

genre : very bittersweet fluff. happy angst.

warnings : death. grief - ways of dealing with the death of a loved one (just...i’m sorry) sunoo is an angel.

summary : you and jungwon complete the bucket list your best friend had left behind and hopefully rekindle the friendship you had loved and lost.

status : completed

main masterlist

taglist : @penny-quinn @missmadwoman @dandelionxgal @hiqhkey @pixyseeun @httpheeseung @enhacolor @jeonjkslvr @acciomylove @bloom-bloom-pow @en-boyz @bubblytaetae @lunaflvms @soobin-chois @yvesismywife @rrvvby (if you want to be on it just dm or ask :))

moodboard | profile 1 | profile 2

prologue

chapter one : say it back

chapter two : a proposition

chapter three : way back home

chapter four : and in his hand

chapter five : a kind confrontation

chapter six : everytime

chapter seven : makeshift

chapter eight : hee is a menace

chapter nine : new friend, old stories

chapter ten : think

chapter eleven : to be known

chapter twelve : sunoo’s friend collection

chapter thirteen : sunghoon ditch day

chapter fourteen : pixelated wishes

chapter fifteen : hey sunoo, it’s me again

chapter sixteen : 3am snack run

chapter seventeen : jake’s main character arc

chapter eighteen : jungwon is still a boy

chapter nineteen : the brightest star

chapter twenty : see the falling lights

chapter twenty one : freak them out

chapter twenty two : mamama

chapter twenty three : intervention

chapter twenty four : in the meadow

chapter twenty five : imsorryimsorryimsorry

chapter twenty six : taunting

chapter twenty seven : don’t worry

chapter twenty eight : let go

chapter twenty nine : at last

chapter thirty : i hope you know he loved you

epilogue : messages from heaven

author’s confessions + thank you wrap up

#enhypenwriters #ficscafe #houseofincantations #kflixnet #enhypen fic #enhypen #jungwon #enhypen jungwon #enhypen jungwon fic #enhypen social au #enhypen jungwon social au #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen au #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen jungwon scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen smau

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vopegist · 2 years

Text

Taste of Love - kth

pairing : taehyung x fem! reader

genre/au : fluff, stranger to lovers au, cafe au, christmas themed.

wc : 2.4 k

warnings : none

rating : G

summary : Getting to taste food from almost every restaurant or cafe in the city during the holiday season sounds like a great idea when you’re not a food critic. But you are, and you can do nothing but come to terms with the fact that every place you would have to visit will offer you the same old boring holiday experience. Turns out though, Goût d'amour is different.

a/n : part of the BCC X FI 12 Days of BTS event ❄ prompt: cosy cafe with christmas songs ❄ aaaahhhh! this is finally out of my drafts! took a while, but here it is! thank you soo much @ddeseokielune for beta reading this! really helped me out when i was going through a whole crisis with this fic lol.

Hope you enjoy <3

The bleak wind that manages to slash through your coat hampers your reasoning due to obvious reasons, but even without the lack of warmth around you, you are certain that being a food critic tops the list of one of the worst jobs during the holidays.

It has nothing to do with the teeming multitude of people huddled in such spaces or their overflowing saccharine sentiments, and everything to do with the iteration of events that you can no longer bear.

If you see one more person sink on their knees extending a blue velvet box before their lover, or a side of mashed potatoes on your plate, or something that even remotely resembles a gingerbread man- you will lose your goddamn mind because this is how every other visit to a restaurant, fancy or not, this week has been.

Even the mere thought of having to consume yet another apple pie has you releasing a shuddery breath.

It’s a chilly Friday evening, and you’re set to examine the last place for the week before you retire to your home-cooked meals (that do not include turkey, ham or gravy in any shape or form) for the weekend.

Sinking your hands further down your pockets, you round the street housing what was described to you, a cozy cafe. You trust Seokjin and his word of mouth to guide you towards, at the least, an adequate restaurant experience, but with the preceding events of the week, you don’t have very high hopes as you stop before the entrance.

Goût d'amour.

The words elegantly scribbled on a blackboard greet you promisingly before you wrap your fingers around the icy brass handle of the door to push it open. Almost immediately you smother an escaping groan as you hear the familiar ‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas’ chime through the air, halting at the threshold.

You briefly keek inside and there isn’t a single being in vision, your feet ever so slightly shuffling backwards and grip on the handle slacking. Maybe you can leave unnoticed and just crawl into your bed an hour earlier than designated, crying over rom-coms all night. Maybe that’s how you would have spent your evening if it weren’t for a tuft of brown hair and a hunched figure emerging into sight a moment later.

You only see so much at first: wavy locks graciously splayed across a face you cannot see, white shirt taut across the wide expanse of the man's back followed by a wine-red apron pinching at the waist.

An unintended garbled noise slips past your lips at the sight, and that's all it takes to gather the man's attention, his head snapping up before he straightens his stance.

If it isn't for your hold on the latch, the chilly gust of wind that blows past could easily sweep you off your feet and toss you into oblivion because the man before you has to be the prettiest fucking one you have ever laid your eyes on.

"Hello," the greeting carries a hint of confusion— bearing evidence in the way his defined brows pinch ever so slightly and head askew. His voice is deep, much deeper than you anticipated, reaching you from across the cafe. "Are you planning on taking a seat?"

Right, almost forgot about that, didn't we?

"Yes, yes, I am." You let your hand fall and your feet shuffle in, the entrance thudding shut. "This place was recommended to me by a friend. Seokjin, you must know him, right?"

"Ah, yes." The owner, you're guessing, must have received a heads up on your arrival as he nervously chuckles, dusting his hands off to step away from the counter. "He had informed me about you."

You nod, taking a brief moment to appreciate the grace the man possesses as he walks up to you.

"Welcome to Goût d'amour." He smiles, wide and box-like, before bending into a formal bow. "I am Kim Taehyung. It's a pleasure to have you here."

"Thank you," you return the gesture, allowing Taehyung to walk you towards one of the tables.

As previously informed, the place is cosy. A comfortably small spacing in a rather secluded street, which is a pity since it has already surpassed many places you have visited in the elegance department. Scattered pendant lights illuminate the area with their amber glow, rivalling the bright gold fairy lights that run in parallels across the walls. There are hardly ten two-seater tables on counting. Nonetheless, they are satisfactorily kempt and decorated as per the occasion.

"What does it mean… Goût d'amour?"

"It means 'taste of love' in French."

You slide into one of the chairs he offers. "That's an interesting name."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he chuckles, and you allow yourself to smile. His innate charm must be an aid while serving customers, but now that this thought enters your mind, you notice that the place is empty and unusually silent for a cafe, save for the two of you and the voice of Mariah Carey over clinking bells.

"I hope you don't mind me asking... is it usually this empty?"

"Uh, yeah," Taehyung answers, timid. "It's a fickle business, isn't it? Running a cafe..." Before you can sympathize he claps his hands together, "Anyways, what can I help you with?"

With hopes that he isn't going to bring you eggnog and pumpkin pie, you humbly reply with 'House specialty, please', throttling a groan in your throat when yet another overplayed Christmas song interrupts the silence.

Taehyung seems to be a keen observer because your annoyance doesn't go unnoticed by him. "Don't fancy some Christmas songs?" He walks over to the station, getting to work.

Your usual conversations with restaurant owners are strictly limited to work-related, but for some reason, you don't mind bending that rule for a couple of moments with the gorgeous man.

"Not the overplayed ones, no."

The sound gets drowned in the tunes of Feliz Navidad, but you don't miss it, the deep rumble of his chuckle before he suggests: "Those are all I've got, but I could try looking for something else if you'd like."

"Thank you."

You lean back in your chair, momentarily relaxing when the song pauses. It's been a long day, and you need some well deserved moments of peace without the sound of bells and tambourine pestering you. The prolonged silence has you assuming Taehyung fails to have spare songs reserved in his stash, but you'd rather bask in the quiet than anything else.

Until the warm timbre of an electric guitar fills the air, immediately garnering your undivided attention. It's an uncommon sounding Christmas tune- if it's even that- and not one you think to have heard before.

Your gaze darts to the cafe owner who is hunched over the workstation in what could only be a rather uncomfortable position. Sure, the marble surface is a little too low to accommodate his height, but the way he is awkwardly crouching brings your brows together.

“Hey snow, it’s coming today. What should I prepare? I’m ready for at least one thing — to greet you, okay.”

The voice drifts in the cold winter air- so tender, so warm that you are already beginning to melt in its intangible embrace. But what’s even more riveting is the fact the singer sounds uncannily familiar to your cute cafe owner. And your suspicions are proven true when a quick glimpse reveals to you Taehyung frozen in place- hands hovering and back still arching over whatever he was preparing.

“How did you come about this song? I don’t think I’ve heard this one before.”

“Uh,” The man straightens, lifting a tray to his hands as he strolls towards your table. The red that seems to bleed from his cheeks to his neck is a telltale of his embarrassment. And frankly, that shouldn’t be the case at all, given that his voice rivals the angels up above.

“You have a beautiful voice.” It’s an understatement, really, but you don’t think you can even concoct a praise that would do justice to his voice. Nonetheless, his shoulders relax, relief washing over his features.

“Sorry, I really don’t have anything else that isn’t overplayed,” he mumbles, gingerly placing an assortment of delicacies before you.

“Hm, it’s unusual to counter a compliment with an apology, isn’t it?” You playfully tease, and Taehyung cracks up, part of his uneasiness dissipating.

You’re not sure what has gotten into you today. Maybe it’s the vibe of the cafe, or the emptiness of it, or the angelic man before you- you’re not sure, but what you know is that you’re being severely out of character for any one of these reasons. Banter with a place owner isn’t something you would even remotely consider doing, but here you are complimenting the man over anything but the food.

“Christmas without you would just not be Christmas at all. Bright mistletoes up above us, it’s just you and me.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung smiles, eyes crinkling, and you almost want to ram your head into the nearest wall because there is this tingling looming somewhere deep inside you, shaking your being at the smallest of his actions, and you haven’t even reached the food yet.

Shaking your head, you sit up straight as Taehyung introduces you to the dishes. “Gingerbread latte and hot cocoa cookies,” he points. “Hope you enjoy these, while I bring you the rest.” And with that, he’s gone again, retiring back to his kitchen.

If one thing you’ve gathered from the very little time spent in the cafe owner’s company is that he is all about aesthetics. The snowman-doodled scarlet coffee mug– its rim decorated with whipped cream and caramel– which houses your beverage; the heart-shaped baked goodies accompanying it, and the very next lyric that says something about believing in Santa Claus- all of it tells you that Kim Taehyung is a hopeless romantic. Not that you have known him for any longer than thirty minutes, but whatever you’ve witnessed so far– with his soft smiles and tender words– indicate the obvious.

Licking some of the whipped cream off first, you let the warm coffee flow through your system, the perfect blend of sweet, spice, and bitter and luckily for you, nothing like any of the beverages you’ve consumed over the past week.

Involuntarily, you let a chuckle slip past.

“What- Is something wrong? It’s the song, isn’t it?” He rambles, shuffling to turn it off.

“No, no.” Smothering a smile, you rest the mug on the coaster. “I’m not of the kind to pass compliments so easily but,” you glance around, drinking in the ambience: the blinking fairy lights, the shadows settling outside, the pleasant aura and Kim Taehyung. “This is nice.”

You take a bite out of the delightful cookie.

“I'm assuming you're referring to the food, hm?”

And you almost choke on it, head whipping in his direction fast enough your neck cracks. Of course, only his back greets you as he hums to himself. You peer outside at the darkening street, carefully contemplating your next words.

Fuck it.

“Among other things.”

Silence.

You can feel that uneasiness growing in the pit of your stomach yet again, and it’s so aching you can’t help dart your eyes back to him. Taehyung is already looking back, his face so painfully neutral it makes you want to dig up the ground underneath and crawl into it.

Until his lip twitches, betraying his amusement.

“I see,” Taehyung is just as swift in turning his back to you, but you beat him to notice the ghost of a smile on his lips.

You find yourself smiling along. Another nibble on the cookie, and you realize why.

You taste it. The place holds up to its name because you taste it.

Love.

[ … … … ]

Taehyung holds out the door for you as you step out. Night has fallen upon the street, scattered lights adorning the few shops that house the lane illuminating the scene.

You exhale a puff of breath, leaving a trail of smoke in the cold winter night.

"It was lovely to have you here," Taehyung thanks you, his gleaming eyes reflecting the twinkling lights of the alley.

"The pleasure is mine." You bow.

"Travel safely." He's awkward, shuffling his weight from one foot to another. It's endearing. "It has gotten pretty cold."

You want to argue that Taehyung should really be the one concerned about the cold since he is out here chatting with no extra clothing shielding him— besides an apron which still does nothing— but you don't mention it. You're the one keeping him here, so the sooner you part ways, the sooner he can return to the warmth of his cafe.

You don't want to leave.

"I will. Thank you," you murmur, feet unmoving.

"Okay," Taehyung whispers.

You should really leave.

"Is this place open on weekends?"

"Uh well," his eyes swiftly dart towards the cafe and then towards you.

"Yes," he exhales. "During the holiday season, yes. We are open on weekends."

Or at least henceforth will have to.

You nod.

"See you tomorrow, then." The words leave you without any prior thought of their consequences, but now they're out in the open, and you cannot swallow them back as his brows shoot up.

"I mean-"

"I'll be waiting."

And now your cheeks are aflame. You hope it's because of the winter, hope he thinks the same. Both of you know it is not.

"See you tomorrow," Taehyung smiles.

All you can do is nod, biting your lips to hide whatever you think would escape if you stay in his proximity for any longer. Maybe a smile, maybe something entirely else— you don't trust yourself.

Taehyung waves you goodbye, one hand buried in the pocket of his apron, as you walk away.

The events of the day seem laughable to you now that you recall them on your way home. One moment you wanted nothing more than to escape from your job or the prospect of visiting more eateries. Now, you cannot wait until tomorrow to return– a seed of unnamed feelings planted inside your heart, eager to be nurtured and blossom into something more.

You think it will, and you cannot hold yourself back from wanting to have more because it’s addicting– the taste of love.

eeeeeek idk this has to be one of my favourite works that i’ve written- there are barely any fics here to begin with but whatever. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and if you did, please consider reblogging this post <3

feedback is highly appreciated | share your thoughts ♥

update: ok, I'm not over this couple either and it is likely I may write a follow-up drabble soon, not really sure when but if you wish to be added to the taglist, feel free to comment or send in an ask !

update: PART TWO IS HERE

#12daysofbts bccxfi #btshoneyhive #houseofincantations #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts fluff #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #strangers to lovers #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios

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crispy-chan · 2 years

Text

felix navidad | lee felix

❧ pairing: prince!felix x gn.baker!reader

❧ genre: fluff, mild angst; royal!au, baking contest!au, s2l

❧ wc: 5k

❧ warnings: language, typical royal problems (servants, children working, etc), it's implied that reader's parents aren't in the picture (PG)

❧ summary: when the crown prince asks you, a lowly baker, to help him win the annual baking competition, you can't resist the sweet deal he proposes. during the course of 14 days, lee felix learns that there are as many ways to mix batter as there are ways to fall in love with you.

❧ a/n: hello guys <3 please welcome this surprise not really fic I wrote for brennan. it was a lot of fun getting to know her and I highly recommend you check out her blog!! this fic is a part of @freckledwinterfalls 's secret Santa event . tysm xie for hosting such a fun event !!

❧ to @seoulbinz: hiii brennan <3 I'm your secret Santa!! i really enjoyed talking to you and getting to know you, even if I didn't know you (other than seeing you occasionally interact with a few people I know) prior to the event!! you're really sweet and I feel really lucky that I got to be your secret Santa. anyways, I hope you enjoy this little piece. here's a funny story, I actually deleted (accidentally) half the draft yesterday so I had a late night typfest lmfao. after that, when I went to post, the tags on tumblr were officially #brocken so I hope you don't mind that I waited till the morning to post this. this also turned out a lot longer than I expected so I'm really sorry for that (I ballparked it around 2k lol). anyways, I'm sending you all my hugs <3 I hope you enjoy this and stay safe <3

masterlist

Hidden behind the lacy curtains, the young prince watched with glee as the baker roughly kneaded the dough, their fingers pressing into the soft mass. His brown eyes were wide open as he peered at the mysterious individual, brows furrowed at the fact that someone so young was working so early in the morning.

He supposed that it wasn't such a surprise that all the personnel were up early, preparing for the winter festival today, however, to see a child his age work so hard before sunrise definitely made him feel strange. Especially when he saw how hard you were working—loose strands of hair covering your eyes and sticking to your sweat-slicked forehead.

A sudden shout made him jump, almost revealing his whereabouts. He scurried to hide behind the counter as an old lady came into the kitchen, a scowl on her lips.

“Hurry up, Y/N! We don't have all day!”

The fear in your eyes was enough for the young prince to want to come forward and scold her for yelling at you like that, but he held himself back.

“I'm really s-sorry. W-We were out of milk so I had to run down to the pantry to—”

“Enough!” her sharp voice cut through the air, making you swallow the words on your tongue with a bitter sob. “I don't want to hear any of your excuses, understand? Now get to work you lazy child!”

With a horror-stricken face, Felix watched as you choked down a sob and wiped your tears off with your apron before returning to work.

That was the first time he saw you, the person who would in the future become your palace's best baker and his first love.

• ❧ •

“But mother, I want to compete this year! Why won't you allow me to?” the crown prince questioned, disappointment lacing his tone as his mother, the Queen, only smiled.

“We've been through this many times, Felix. Baking simply isn't something a young prince, such as yourself, should be concerned about. There are many other hobbies that are a lot more prince-like. How about Mr. Lee's fencing class? I've been wanting to enroll you for ages. I heard that Hyunjin has been practicing for a couple of months now…”

Rolling his eyes, the boy could only pout. “Please, mother. It's something that I truly enjoy and I've been longing to do for ages.”

The light from the chandelier illuminated the queen’s face, bouncing off of the precious jewels that were sewn on her dress. “Look, Felix… this competition isn't for the likes of royalty. It's simply something dumb that we organize for all the cooks and bakers of the palace in hopes of motivating them to work hard. If you really want, I can ask Mrs. Choi to teach you, but you'd have to keep it a secret—if word goes around that the crown prince is baking—”

Felix simply grunted in response, walking away before his mother could even call his name. His ears turned red at the mention of Mrs. Choi—the head baker. He hated her with utmost passion. She was the one who screamed at all her subordinates and made them do all the work while she sipped tea.

The woman was a witch, and at the thought of being taught by her, he felt sick to the stomach.

Kicking the pebble on the ground, Felix sighed, wishing that he wasn't bound by such pointless royal duties. Why couldn't he compete? It's not like he would suddenly abandon all his classes, no, Felix wasn't like that. He was very diligent and his hobbies wouldn't stop him from doing well in his studies. Sure, maybe his… enthusiasm to be part of the royal family wasn't as strong as his cousin Hyunjin's, but that didn't mean that he would slack off.

Quite the contrary; when Felix put his mind to something, he wouldn't stop at anything to accomplish it.

• ❧ •

“You want me to what?” you shrieked, formalities long forgotten as you stared incredulously at the crown prince.

His brow was perched in amusement, and the aura he emitted was enough for you to want to fall to your knees. His sharp eyes gazed into your own as you slowly trailed down to take him in as a whole. Sure, you've seen the crown prince—the young boy, or should you say the man—whom you've served for almost your entire life on many occasions. You've seen him during all festivals and celebrations, assemblies where you were required to bring in pastries and desserts. Everybody in the palace knew how their future king looked like.

However, it was all from a distance. And even though there were dozens of his paintings hanging along the hall, done by the best of artists, none of them dim him justice. They didn't capture the elegant curve of his jaw, the freckles dusting his cheeks like stars in the galaxy, nor the way his eyes seemed to shine like the Sun.

For a few seconds, you were completely and utterly mesmerized by his beauty. It seemed so distant yet so close and you had to suppress the urge to reach out and caress his cheek.

An awkward cough forced you back into reality. Embarrassed, the heat immediately rose to your cheeks as you realized what you have done. In hopes of salvaging the situation, you hastily bowed down, muttering your apologies.

“I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness. I don't think it would be proper for me to help you like that. Please excuse me—”

“No, please,” desperation seeped into his voice, and turning around to face him, you noticed the way his hand clutched your arm. “I really need your help… please don't go.”

Your eyes watered at the sight. The boy seemed so lost and helpless—like he didn't have anyone else to turn to. If he was asking a lowly baker for help, it must've meant that he's exhausted all his options.

Nevertheless, you didn't want to get yourself into any trouble. All these years, you've been working hard with a singular goal in mind. One day, you wanted to open a bakery and share your creations with other people. It was a noble dream, yet still, you knew that it wouldn't be easy. The king had to approve of all new establishments, and you've heard of people who waited for years for him to hear them out, just to be denied.

A woeful sigh left your lips as you peered at the prince from under your lashes. “I'm really sorry, Your Highness, but I don't believe I'd be of any help. I'm just a lowly baker. If you'd like, I could ask Mrs. Choi if she’d—”

“No.” His deep voice cut through the air, making you look up. When he saw the uncertainty in your eyes, he softened his gaze. “I want you to teach me.” He paused for a second, licking his lips as he continued. “I know you're the one who made the raspberry tarts last year. And the papaya cheesecake the year before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, shocked that the prince knew the truth. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes at all the bitter memories of Mrs. Choi receiving trophies that she didn't deserve at baking competitions. You were the one that you should've gotten them. After all, you were the one that spent hours in the kitchen, trying out multiple recipes and working hard. She had been forcing you to bake everything, while she received all the praise.

“All of the winning cakes and pastries Mrs. Choi supposedly baked,” he lowered his voice into a faint whisper. “They were all done by you, weren't they…”

The pained expression on your face is all the confirmation he needed. Slowly, almost as if he was afraid of scaring you, he placed his hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

“W-What do you want from me? I swear that I didn't mean to help her cheat—she forced me,” you hiccup. “She forced me to do it. I would never willingly comply with her.”

“I know.” The smile on his lips could light up the entire kingdom. “That's why I've come to make a deal with you.”

Oh.

A deal? Well, that's interesting… and surprising too. The crown prince was coming to you for a deal?

A smirk appeared on the young man's lips when he realized that he caught your attention. Despite your mind telling you to be reasonable and turn down whatever it was that he wanted, the child-like curiosity was still burning inside of you.

And the urge to satiate it was too strong to resist.

“And what would this deal of yours be, Your Highness?”

Unbeknownst to you, the boy released a breath he was holding, relieved that you didn't deny him. “I want you to teach me your ways. If you help me win the annual baking competition, I'll talk to my father about allowing you to open up a bakery on the market.”

The way your eyes lit up made Felix chuckle, his own eyes turning into crescent moons when he saw you so happy. The bright smile on your face shone like the brightest star, and for a second, he felt like he was in a trance. Your soft voice brought him back to reality.

“Uhm…” you nervously shuffled around, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I guess I agree, Your Highness. I'll try my best to teach you everything I know.”

Upon hearing that, his entire face brightened up. “Thank you, Y/N. I greatly appreciate it.”

• ❧ •

A few days have passed since you nervously agreed to help the young prince with his baking endeavors. Mere minutes after you've closed the deal, fear and uncertainty started creeping into the back of your head, but you tried your best to push that into the deep corners of your mind.

There were only two weeks left till Christmas Eve—the day the competition was supposed to be held—and you were already feeling nervous.

Wading through the snow, the icy wind bit at your cheeks as you scurried to get to the south wing of the palace. Felix—as he insisted you call him in private—suggested that due to the recent renovations, the place would be perfect for you to teach him.

The kitchen was fully equipped, yet no one was ever there. The reason was quite simple—the south wing was just recently renovated for the purpose of housing Felix and the future Queen once he would be ruling the kingdom.

“Okay so let's start. For today, I've brought all the ingredients you need to make chocolate brownies.” You started to lay out all the ingredients you brought in a small wicker basket.

You handed him the neatly folded piece of parchment. “Here's the recipe. I'll just stand by and watch you. If there's anything you need help with, just let me know.”

“Wait?” He pouted, puckering his lips. “You won't do them with me?”

“Ah,” you tutted. “I won't go anywhere, Lix.” he could feel his heart bursting at the use of the cute nickname. “If you aren't sure what to do next, you can just ask, okay?”

“Okay.”

• ❧ •

“Hey!” you yelled at the freckled boy, shielding (or at least trying to) yourself from the fistful of flour he was about to throw at you. “Do you even want me to help you?”

The room was filled with giggles and throaty laughter as Felix continued his flour attack, even reaching for the cocoa powder.

“No, no, no… you wouldn't,” you shrilled, backing away as he chased you with a large smile on his lips, cackling like a little child. “Lee Felix! Don't you dare throw that at me or—”

“Or what, sweetheart?” his voice dropped as he leaned in closer, almost caging you between the kitchen counter and his lean body. “Go on, tell me… What are you gonna do?”

You could feel your heart beating like a drum when your eyes met, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes making you freeze in your spot. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, unsure what to make of his close presence and hooded gaze. The only thing you manage to do is quietly stutter.

“I-I won’t help you with t-the competition.”

Upon hearing that, the boy tensed, unsure of what to do. Leaning in closer, his palm reaches to caress your face. He then breaks out into a grin, lowering his mouth to your ear. “You had a lil' something there, sweetheart.”

Your heart halted in your chest as embarrassment washed over you. Quickly placing your hand onto where his was just a second ago, you mumbled. “It was probably just some of the flower you threw on me, dumbass.”

And the prince hollered in response, turning around and getting back to where he left off, leaving you in a muddle of conflicted emotions.

• ❧ •

The two weeks have passed in a blur—days seeping into nights in what felt like a matter of seconds. However, you've been extremely occupied with preparations for the winter baking competition.

Over the past fourteen days, you've taught Felix over twenty different recipes, ranging from traditional fruit tarts and pastries to not-so-traditional sweets like baklawa.

Despite your best efforts to convince him to choose something more… fitting of the Christmas theme this year, Felix was hell-bent on baking the same thing you showed him on the first day.

“Listen, Lix… I know you really love brownies, I mean—who wouldn't love brownies, right?” A faint chuckle escapes your lips. “But don't you think you'd have a better shot at winning this if you chose something more… conventional?”

Felix smacked his lips in response, patting your head in reassurance. “Don't worry, Y/N.” He singsonged. “I have everything under control, just you wait.”

In the meantime, as you were rolling your eyes at his dorky behavior and a strange affinity for the chocolate-baked good, he managed to catch onto your arm and pull you along.

“C'mon! Let's go look at the Christmas market!”

• ❧ •

They say that love is in the air during the winter season.

As you were running around freely, laughing and giggling with the crown prince, you began to think if this is what love truly feels like.

Felix knew the place like the back of his hands, zigzagging through the crowd of people as he dragged you behind him, his delicate fingers gripping onto your wrist.

You felt like the protagonist of a romance novel. He took you to all these different booths, picking out small knickknacks and trying them on. After some time, he noticed how you tightened the thin, worn-out coat around your body, blowing on your hands to try to salvage some heat.

He almost faceplanted, cursing himself out for not realizing any sooner.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

Peering up at him from under your lashes, you shake your head. The day is beautiful—tiny snowflakes falling from the sky and gracing the area around you with a thick, sparkly layer of snow. The entire market looked straight out of a fairytale book, the large Christmas tree in the middle being the cherry on top.

A breathless laugh escaped the prince's lips before he slid out of his thick, wool coat. Your eyes widened in confusion when he gently placed it around your shoulders, maneuvering your arms to slide inside the sleeves. “There we go.”

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you were faced with the prince in his full glory. Without the coat, his entire royal mantel was on display. He was clad in white, form-fitting pants that matched the shade of fresh snow to the T. Tucked into his trousers was a thick, white blouse with golden embroidery and a small, golden-hued napkin that sat inside of his breast pocket. He wore a light-cream overcoat and a pair of white leather boots that only accentuated his long legs.

His blonde hair was parted in the middle, allowing you to see his entire face, save for the small area above his eye that was obstructed by an unruly lock.

Despite spending multiple hours with him every day for the past two weeks, you couldn't help but swoon over his beauty. Lee Felix was simply ethereal, there was no other way to describe it. And as you were busy admiring his pretty features, his eyes caught on to something interesting.

“C'mon, Y/N. Look over there.” He pointed at the stand all the way in the back. “Let's go check it out.”

When he placed the bright-red Santa hat on top of your head, he almost doubled down with laughter before hastily purchasing the item and thanking the vendor.

“Here.” He adjusted the hat on your head before playfully pulling it down over your eyes and taking off.

“Felix!” You shouted over the commotion, rearranging the accessory so it wouldn't obstruct your vision. You couldn't stay mad at him for long though, instead choosing to run after him. You were nearly out of breath as you hollered. “Stop right there, Lix!”

After a while of playing cat and mouse, Felix finally ended the painful game by halting and allowing you to catch up with him. You nearly tackled him to the ground, angrily hitting his shoulder.

“There there.” He cooed, finding your anger adorable. “Let's go get some hot chocolate, yeah?”

At the mention of the sweet drink, your entire face lightened up, prompting the prince to chuckle. “You really love hot chocolate, don't you?”

Instead of answering him, you grabbed onto his arm and started pulling him towards the direction of the hot chocolate stand, believing that that was enough of an answer in and of itself.

As the two of you sipped hot chocolate on a bench in the park, the Sun was setting behind you, casting a warm glow on the both of you. One hand holding on to the paper cup, your other hand was resting next to you on the bench. And while Felix watched you delicately slurp the sweet beverage, the urge to simply grab your hand grew stronger. Just as he was about to gently interlock his fingers with yours, you stood up, squeezing the empty cup in your palm.

Turning to your friend, you whispered. “C'mon, we should start heading back.”

When he gave you a sad pout, you added. “You don't want to miss the competition, don't you?”

“Yeah… You're right.”

When you finally heard that he was ready to comply, you couldn't help but ask one more question.

“Are you really making brownies?”

He giggled. The giggle then turned into a snort, something that a mere two weeks ago you would've thought was extremely out of character for the young royal.

“Don't worry.” He slowly stood up, dusting off his pants and patting your head. “I have everything under control, you just have to wait and see.”

“Alright.” You mumble. “If you say so… I trust you.”

• ❧ •

To say that you were nervous would be a generous understatement.

You've been sitting inside the room for over three hours, surrounded mainly by royals who came here for the sake of entertainment. When word got around that the crown prince would be competing, many young girls from noble families lined up at the gate to come and watch the future King.

At first, you weren't even planning on coming inside—you've had more than enough unpleasant memories associated with the place. Nonetheless, when Felix begged you to come in for him, you weren't able to resist his puppy eyes.

And now, you felt extremely out of place. If you took out all the bakers competing in the show, all the people around you were of royal blood. Some of them had been coming to watch the competition for years, meanwhile, others heard about the prince competing and didn't want to miss a chance of seeing their future ruler in action.

Even the King and Queen couldn't resist coming. They sat all the way in the back, hoping to stay incognito. An almost laughable attempt given the fact that their faces were known all over the kingdom.

Still, you appreciated them looking out for his son.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, the judge finally called his name. Your heart skipped a beat when the prince finally walked on stage carrying a large tray of chocolate brownies topped with what looked like whipped cream.

The judges each tasted a piece, most of them nodding in approval at the taste. A warm smile graced his lips as he gently placed a plate in front of the last judge. After that, a meeting was called for all the judges where they discussed the possible winners.

The entire evening went by like a flash, and before you knew it, the head chef (who was also one of the judges) stepped forward. In his right hand, he held a parchment of paper from which he read off the standard speech about the history of this competition and how the joy of creating food was something universal.

Fast forward to when he was finished, a cheeky smile appeared on his lips. “As you all know, we've had quite an unusual contestant enter this year's competition.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. “And it is simply my pleasure to announce that prince Lee Felix is the winner of the 37th annual baking competition.”

You erupted in cheers along with all the others in the crowd, happy tears lining your eyes. On the stage, Felix looked just as close to bursting into tears when he accepted the trophy, ‘thank yous’ slipping past his lips.

He then began his speech filled with genuine words and funny anecdotes. In a matter of seconds, he had the entire crowd under his thumb.

“There's one last thing I'd like to say.” He paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I wanted to dedicate this victory to someone I know… To someone that taught me everything there is to know about baking.” You could feel your hands getting clammy as he continued with his speech.

“This person is an incredible baker—in fact, they were the ones that baked the two deserts that won the competition last year and the year before.”

The entire crowd gasped at the revelation, hanging on his lips as they waited to hear who this mysterious person was.

“I'd like to dedicate my victory to Y/N L/N, the baker who deserves everything and more. I've promised them, Father, that if they manage to teach me enough to win, you'll allow them to open a bakery on the main square.”

This time, it was you who gasped. Main square? Was he out of his mind? You only asked for a small establishment on the market—you wouldn't even dare suggest that you deserved a place on the main square.

Alas, you turned around to face the King, hoping to gauge his reaction. Holding your breath, your eyes widened as his stoic expression slowly morphed into a smile.

He was proud, you realized after a few beats of silence.

For the rest of his speech, you felt like you were in a trance, your kind not fully gripping that this wasn't just another fever dream.

It was reality.

As you watched the two rulers walk away with their son, his father's arm affectionately thrown over his shoulder, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the domestic moment. The Queen's eyes were glazed as she reached to hold her son's hand, pressing tender kisses onto the top of his forehead. The prince laughed ins response, the sound echoing through the room as all three of them exited.

Scrambling to pick up all your belongings (which until now wasn't that much), you threw the prince's heavy coat over your shoulders and slid the red hat over your head.

The hall was slowly starting to empty, everyone was walking away with their loved ones, gushing about how excited they were to spend Christmas Eve together.

You sighed. It wasn't anything you weren't used to. Ever since you came to the palace to work, you've been celebrating all holidays alone. It hurt at first, but over time, you learned to not think about it. You tried to tell yourself that one day, you'd be able to celebrate these holidays with people you loved—whether it'd be family or friends.

As you walked out into the cold night, the icy wind attacked you almost immediately, numbing your cheeks and freezing the tips of your fingers. In an attempt to preserve some warmth, you snuggled tighter into the woolen coat, sighing as you inhaled the lingering scent.

Lavender with a hint of patchouli… It smelled like him.

From the cobblestone path along the north wing of the palace, you could see all the people in through the windows, celebrating like there was no tomorrow.

The smell of beef roast, fried carp and fresh, cinnamon pie lingered in the air, only reminding you of everything you were missing out on and further driving the point that you were lonely.

A young boy almost ran into you, his apology coming in giggles. You were about to ask him if he was alone when you saw a middle-aged man run after him with a wide smile that reached his eyes.

“Wait for me, Jeongin!” he panted as he struggled to catch up with his son. His dark hair fell over his eyes from under his cap, obstructing his vision. “We have to go get the milk for mommy, remember?”

As they passed you, another wave of anguish washed over you. Your stomach grumbled, making you realize that you didn't even have anything prepared to eat. Every year, you would bake some pies and cook a meal for you to eat in your tiny room on Christmas Eve.

This year, however, you were so occupied with helping the prince, that you forgot to make anything for yourself. Well… There's nothing you could do about it now, so there was no sense in allowing yourself to wallow in pity.

A sudden shuffle you heard made you instantly turn around. Nothing… That's strange—you could've sworn you heard something. Nevertheless, you were about to brush it off, when suddenly, you felt two hands cover your eyes.

“Guess who it is?” The unmistakable deep voice rang in your ears as you smiled, excited to see, or rather feel, the prince.

When he peeled his hands away, he stepped in front of you, handing you a small wrapped pocket. “What is this?” you carefully questioned, thumbing the pouch as curiosity bubbled up in your veins.

“How about you see for yourself.”

The cockiness dripping from his tone made the heat rise to your cheeks as your frozen fingers began to tear the wrapping paper. When it was finally off, you were left with a small jewelry box in your hands. You gasped in disbelief, opening the box with trembling fingers.

“F-Felix.” You heaved, eyes watering at the sight. There was a silver necklace inside the velvet box—the one you've longingly glanced at while you were at the market together. “S-So that's where you ran off to? To get me this necklace?”

“Yeah.” He whispered. “It was the last one left.”

Pulling down his coat from your shoulders, he carefully took out the piece of jewelry, unclasping it and putting it around your neck. When he was done, you heald your breath, fingers reaching to touch the delicate snowflake pendant hanging from your neck.

At that moment, Felix thought you looked like the most ethereal person he's ever met. Under the moonlight, you were illuminated by the silver glow and you seemed almost unreal in his eyes.

Hands sliding around your waist, the young prince pulled you into his chest with a fond smile.

“Merry Christmas.”

At those words, you felt the dam inside your eyes finally burst, allowing the tears you've held inside for so long to finally trickle to the surface.

“There, there.” He whispered, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I heard that you usually spend Christmas alone, so I figured you could come celebrate with us…”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you sniffled into his shoulder. “C-Could I? Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Of course—it's the least I can do for you after all you've done for me. Plus, I'd really like to spend the evening with you….” He trailed off, ears turning pink.

Your laughter rang in his ears and your hands reached to cup his face. Gazing into his chocolate orbs, you gave him the sweetest smile before leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Fireworks erupt behind you as the two of you kiss for the first time, and you felt like you were floating on air.

Felix's hand slid down to your waist and he squeezed gently, making you giggle into the kiss. Grabbing your hand in his, he points in the direction of the palace.

“C'mon, let's go!”

Without a sliver of doubt in your soul, you follow him as the two of you muddle through the snow.

“By the way, I made coconut brownies with whipped cream.”

Your eyes widen. “Shut up! I thought you were joking.”

Tucking a strand of golden hair behind his ear, he grinned. “Nu-uh. I never joke about these things. And don't worry—I was careful not to burn the coconut, just like you said.”

“I know.” You whined. “But it would've been a real disaster if it got burned.”

“Well lucky for us, I didn't. Now c'mere.” He halted, making you topple into his strong hold. Pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, he whispered. “I can't believe you were the first one to kiss me.”

Gazing into his sparkling eyes, you replied. “I'll let you be my last if you'd like.”

Smirking, he exhales. “I'd like that very much.”

a/n: hiii!! if you've read so far, ily <3 and please consider letting me know your thoughts. this fic was a bit... experimental to say the least. i was definitely dipping my toes in new waters and testing it out. needless to say, i really enjoyed writing this piece !!! even though misfortune lined the was like a path of thorns lmfao

lots of love and stay safe <3

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liliansun · 2 years

Text

“FRIENDZONED”

synopsis: falling for your best friend, one of the most cliche things to do. good thing you fell for his roommate instead, but the boy was just as dense as you were. Jake was head over heals, watching as you make your aim for Heeseung. In the end, being friendzoned was a lot harder than straight up rejection, right?

pairing: heeseung x reader, Jake x reader w/ mentions of aespa members, enhypen members and itzy members

genre: fluff, slight angst, best friends to lovers

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

6.4k wc

It was obvious that you were head over heels for Lee Heeseung. Who wasn’t honestly? He was the ace of the campus, the pretty boy of the school. He looked like an angel sent from the sky above and he blessed you with his pretty smile every time you went to his apartment, but he didn’t live alone, oh no no. He shared his apartment with 3 other boys. They each all had polar opposite personalities and yet they all seemed to blend well together. Heeseung was the oldest, he stayed to himself most of the time and he always had headphones in. Jay was second in age, he cooked for you each time you came over.

The fashion major in him would always critique your outfit for the ‘dates’ you’d go on. Sunghoon was the youngest, the prince of the apartment. He was very loud for someone who was always quiet, but that was his elegance. Then we have Jake, he was the third in age and he was your best friend. The puppy-eyed boy was always by your side. He had some weird 6th sense when it came to you, he always knew what you wanted before you knew yourself. What you wanted to eat, where you wanted to go, he could read you like the books on his shelf.

He was your stability, your safety blanket, your everything. His biggest mistake, according to him, was introducing you to his friends. Even though he always knew what you had a taste for, he didn’t think Heeseung would be on that list. Your crush on the senior was like a snowfall, it started out soft and pretty and gradually grew over time. Jake convinced himself you’d grow out of it like you did with your other crushes. You’d fall for someone, go on a date and come back to their apartment upset because they weren’t what you expected.

Sounds shallow, but you weren’t going to waste your time if the first impression was not impressive. He was used to this, he liked being the only guy in your life. It’s selfish, but he had to be when it came to you.

So when the news broke that you liked Heeseung, immediately Jake turned to his other roommates seeking comfort in the storm that was brewing. “Dude, it’s probably just a small crush.” Jay said, reassuring his panicked friend. Jay and Sunghoon both knew Jake's worry behind your sudden attention for Heeseung, but they didn’t have the heart to tell him before he found out himself. “I agree, she’ll be over him in a week, maybe two at most.” Sunghoon replied, watching Jake attempt to ease his nerves. He wanted his friends to be right, he hoped they’d be right, but they were wrong. 4 months later, you’re sitting on Jake’s bed with his favorite book in your hands.

A small habit he has was marking his favorite part of the book he’s reading, sparking your curiosity with each word on the page. He doesn’t ever say why it’s his favorite, so you don’t ask. Instead, you read it yourself and find yourself picking apart the text in hopes to see what he sees. You’ll never see what he sees, he’s told you that before. A perfect example is just now, he walks into his room and finds you laid out on his bed with the literature raking your attention.

He stands there, smiling at you ever so fondly. There’s something so simple yet so beautiful to him when he finds you waiting for him. His heart races, beating against his ribs in a rhythm to your name. When you feel his presence, you shoot up and set his book aside. “JAKEE!“ you scream, scurrying off his bed and springing across his room. He smiles at you, like a kid in a candy store and engulfs you into his arms. Your bodies mold together like two pieces of the same puzzle. “Miss me?” He asked in a teasing tone. You mentally rolled your eyes as you took a step back from his hug.

“Don’t be so cocky, I could’ve scared you if I wanted to.” “Yea yea, whatever you say.” He says, smoothing the back of your hair with his palm. Silence falls between you two, something that’s become a comforting thing. You decide to break it this time when you heard a particular boy leave his room. Headphones in each ear, he blasts his favorite songs to drown out the rest of the world. You slipped out of Jake’s embrace, moving around him and peeking your head out the hallway.

Heeseung looks up from his phone, smiling at your beaming expression. “Oh hey y/n, when did you get here?” He asked, turning down the volume on his phone so he can hear you properly while pulling a headphone out. You were practically drooling by him just standing there, but to avoid being awkward, you stammer out of Jake’s room. “I was here earlier, but I was waiting for Jake.” Jake doesn’t know whether to be happy you were waiting for him or upset you ditched him for a few minutes of acknowledgement from his roommate.

“Oh cool, wanna join me for a bowl of noodles?” You practically tripped as you tried to rush out of Jake’s room. Embarrassed, you’re covering your face as Heeseung laughs behind you. Jealousy settles over Jake as he watches the two of you walk to the kitchen. He wants to be the one who makes you blush, no other guy, but him. He’ll never admit it, but he hates the way your crush on Heeseung stuck around longer than expected.

After you and Heeseung shared a cup of noodles, he cleaned the kitchen while you went searching for Jake. He wasn’t in his room, maybe he was doing laundry? You couldn’t hear the washer spinning, maybe it already stopped. You made the rash decision to go check the bathroom, a mistake you’d later feel the consequences of. Just as you’re about to reach for the knob, Jake steps out the bathroom in all glory. He had loose sweatpants on, his shirt hanging over his arm and a towel around his neck while he used one hand to dry his hair.

You ran straight into his slightly wet chest, not only did it hurt a little to run into a solid man, but you were a blushing mess when you took in the situation. You didn’t look up, already knowing it was Jake by the way he smelt of fresh pine and mint. Jake was confused on why you stood there, frozen in your spot till it dawned on him he was half naked. “I’m so sorry y/n, I didn’t see you coming.” He said in a rushed sentence before running past you and into the safety of his room.

Sunghoon and Jay came home just in time, walking through the front door with a few bags of groceries. They were carrying on with their conversation till they spotted you standing in the middle of the hallway. “Y/n, are you okay?” Jay asked, setting a bag down by the door. Sunghoon walked toward the kitchen where Heeseung was drying dishes.

“Hey if you see Jake, tell him we bought snacks.” Sunghoon called out, grabbing your attention. You rushed down the hallway, making a b-line for the door. “Jake? See Jake? Why would I see Jake? It’s not like I just saw him, what? No I didn’t see Jake shirtless, oh I have to go bye!” You said, slipping your shoes on and rushing out the door. Your sudden outburst left the three boys dazed and confused as the began packing groceries away.

You couldn’t look at him the same, even when you would go over to the apartment to watch movies or play games with Heeseung, every time your eyes found Jake, you immediately looked away in embarrassment. Jake was also feeling the heat of the situation, unable to explain to Sunghoon and Jay why you were acting so weird. He was too embarrassed to admit it, his thoughts convincing himself that you’re repelled by the moment and avoiding him was your way of telling him to fuck off.

It was the complete opposite if you were honest. Seeing Jake in the way you’ve never seen him before has been imprinted into your mind. You’d be lying if you didn’t think he was insanely attractive, but this was the cherry on top. “Omg I can’t believe I’m acting like this!” You cried out to your friend, Winter. She was soothing your hair as you laid in her lap. The two of you were roommates, but more times than not, you’d end up in each other’s room until you fell asleep.

“Think of it this way, maybe Jake is more your type than you think.” You shot her a glance, scoffing while you covered your face. “Be serious please, I can’t even be in the same room with him alone anymore.” Winter giggled at your confession, “Y/n, he’s your best friend, I’m sure he misses you.” As stupid as it sounded to you, she was right.

He did miss you like crazy and neither one of you was willing to be the first to speak. “C’mon, just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?” What’s the worst that could happen? Seize the moment. Carpe diem. Just do it y/n, suck it up! You sat up, scooting to the edge of her bed. Winter followed you, leaving her room and entering yours. “What are you doing?” She asked, finding a seat in the beanbag you had near your desk.

You shhed her as you reached for your phone off your bed. Winter sat, watching you unlock your phone and dial Jake’s number. As the ringing began, the regret started to sink in. You were too nervous to FaceTime him, so you tried to hang up, but he answered before you could. “Y/n?” He said, staring at you through the phone. Oh god, there he is. You missed his chocolate eyes, the softness in his voice when he said your name. You missed him so much and seeing him through a screen was setting that into reality. “Hi Jake.” You said, smiling softly. Jake laughed a little, admiring you. He was down, down bad. “What are you doing?” He asked, shuffling in whatever he was doing.

“Oh I’m just-“ you stopped mid answer, turning to Winter in a panic. She shook her hands vigorously, trying to mimic a tv with her hands. “Uhh I’m just- watching tv?” You said, hoping he’d buy your badly put together lie. Jake shot you a weird glance before going back to what he was doing. “Anything good without me?” He asked, teasing you. You gasped dramatically, putting one hand over your chest and clutched your shirt. “How dare you! As if I’d watch our shows without you, shame on you mister.” You said as you relaxed on your bed.

You and Jake had got so caught up in conversation that you forgot Winter was sitting across from you. She was connecting the dots, when it suddenly hit her. She gasped loudly, covering her mouth almost immediately when she received a very angered look from you. “Is that Winter?” Jake asked. “Oh yea, she just got home and I think she forgot something.” You said, winking at her. She got your message, getting up as quietly as she could to exit your room. Jake was about to speak up, but a certain roommate beat him to it.

“Is that y/n?” Your heart did a somersault in your chest when Heeseung said your name. Jake hid his disappointment, turning his phone for the elder to see you through the screen. “Hey y/n! Where have you been?” He asked, showing off his pearly whites to the camera. “Hi sseungie, just spending more time with Win since she was lonely.” You said, lying through your teeth. Winter stood in your doorway, rolling her eyes. “Hey, why don’t you guys come over? We can have a few drinks and play some games!” Winter said, loud enough for the boys on the other end to hear. You shot her a worried look as she smirked evilly at you.

“Yea, sounds good. We’ll see you in a few hours.” Heeseung said as he left the room and went on to do what he needed. “I’m gonna go invite some friends.” Winter said, winking as she skipped down the hallway to her room. You didn’t notice it, but Jake was staring at you as you stared off at the doorway. “So I’ll see you soon?” He said, grabbing your attention. You nodded, waving goodbye before the two of you hung up.

After an hour and a half of not knowing what to wear, you, with the help of Yeji and Giselle, decided on something that would catch Heeseung’s attention, but not show off too much. The girls were snickering over whispers of Jake’s name when their car pulled up. You rolled your eyes at them as you heard the knock on the door. “He’s here, I wonder if he’ll drool.” Giselle said, teasing you till the very end. You blushed at the image of Heeseung in your head, but the girls were referring to a different roommate.

Each boy stepped in and showed off how good they looked. Sunghoon carried the drinks to the kitchen, followed by Heeseung. Jay walked over to greet your roommate while Jake was the last to come through the door. Your heart and mind were at war, one telling you to go and earn his attention while the other said to go do what you’ve been waiting so long to do. Ultimately, you chose to follow your heart and it led you to the couch where Jake was seated. He was talking to Yeji, caught up in conversation.

The sight nearly made you sick, as if you just got punched in the gut. Backing up slowly, you turned to leave and found Heeseung, but Jake stopped you. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to turn to him. “Not gonna say hello?“ he said, smiling at you. You bit your lip, eyes flickering to the way she had her hand on his knee. You muttered a quick ‘hi’ before pulling your arm from his grip. Jake was left confused and hurt, turning to catch Jay’s eyes. Jay knew what was going on, deciding to follow you to the kitchen.

Heeseung and Sunghoon were putting the drinks over ice so that they’ll stay cold when you walked in. You immediately went over and peered at what the two had brought, startling Sunghoon by your presence. “Shit y/n! You need a bell when you enter a room.” He said, gasping for air. You giggled as you playfully pushed his shoulder. “Get over it, ice prince.” You replied, earning a laugh from Heeseung. “Hey y/n, you look beautiful.” He said, leaning over to catch your eye. Your face lit up immediately as the blush crept along your cheeks.

“Likewise.” You said, trying to sound nonchalant. Jay walked in, joining you at the counter. “Hey y/n, I don’t get acknowledged? I’m hurt.” He said, frowning at you. You cupped his cheeks, squishing them together. “Aww Jay, you poor baby. I’ll have to remember you next time.” You said, cooing at him. He laughed, pulling your hands from his face.

Heeseung grabbed two drinks, handing one to you and Jay. You popped the top off, taking a long sip. You heard cheers from both Jay and Sunghoon, but it was Heeseung’s smile at your boldness that caught your attention. “Someone’s having a good time.” He said before taking a sip of his own. “Better enjoy it while I can.” You said, feeling the alcohol start to warm you up and loosen your tension. Jay wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you back to the others.

The two boys followed, being welcomed by the music you assumed Winter put on. Immediately, Heeseung ran over to change the music, putting on one of his own. When Jake looked up, he saw you and Jay talking and jealousy was bubbling inside him. Yeji seemed to notice his disinterest in the conversation, watching where his eyes were. “Go talk to her.” She said, nudging his arm with a soft smile. He didn’t look back, getting up and walking toward you. You were leaning against the wall, Jay next to you as the two of you went on about some show coming soon. “Hey y/n.” Jake said, brushing some of his hair back. You took a sip of your drink before responding. “Oh hey Jake, what happened? Did Yeji bore you?”

You were drunk, he didn’t know how many drinks you had, but you were definitely not near sober. “Actually, you dissed me earlier and I just wanted to spend some time with you.” You were conflicted, staying downstairs and partying with your friends, most importantly your crush. Or going upstairs and having a talk with Jake, your best friend. You didn’t have the right mind to make a reasonable answer, so instead you handed your drink to Jay and grabbed Jake’s hand.

He didn’t protest, why would he? He was in love with you. Not that it’s any surprise, but he decided he might try and make a move before it was too late. And that’s what he did, or wanted to do. The two of you went into your room, shutting the for behind him. “How’ve you been?” He said, turning to you as he sat on your bed. “What’s wrong Jake?” You asked, slurring your words just a bit at his name. He shook his head, reaching out for your hands. “Come cuddle me for a second, yea?”

He knew you were a sucker for his cuddles, mainly because of how warm he was, but his body seemed to be perfect for yours. You grabbed his hands, sitting on your bed till he got in a comfortable position. He pulled you against him, holding you close as the room went quiet. Even with the music downstairs, the only thing you could hear was his breathing and the beating of his heart.

“It’s like we’re a couple.” You said, half jokingly. Jake didn’t respond, instead he just stared down at you with tender eyes. “Always cuddling, never leaving each other’s side. It’s almost like we have feelings for each other.” You said, no filter over your mouth. Jake didn’t know if you meant anything you were saying, but he took his chance to confess while he still had the confidence. “We could be.” He said, feeling your body tense up almost immediately.

You maybe had a little too much to drink, but you were starting to sober up. You sat up, staring down at him, searching his face for any sign that this was a joke. All you found was tender love as he stared back at you. So much time passed, yet you felt like the world went still. The sound of your door opened, turning your attention to the source. “Hey y/n, oh am I interrupting?” He asked as he looked between you two. “Uh, no.” You said, getting out of Jake’s grip and off your bed.

You turned back to see Jake propped up on his elbows, eyes begging for you to stay, but you took the chance and left your room. Heeseung grabs your hand, walking you through the party and onto the patio. The cool air hits your fiery skin, yet you feel almost numb to the wind. “Some party you got there.” He said, looking at you with a smile. You nod, staring out at the view. “So y/n, I’ve been missing to ask you something all night.” You turn towards him, straightening up as you feel your cheeks begin to heat up. “Go ahead, ask me anything.” You replied, fiddling with your hands.

“I think you’re really cute and I have for a few weeks now..so I guess I’m asking if I can take you on a date?” He said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he stared at you. You stood there, thinking that you were so drunk that you passed out and now you’re dreaming. Only, this was real. Lee Heeseung is asking you out, on your patio in the midst of night. You were in shock, staring at him as if he was speaking another language. “I-If you’re not interested..I’m so sorry I even brought it up.” He said, defeat written across his face.

You reached out, fingers barely touching his arm. His eyes locked with yours, sparkling in the moonlight. “Let me get back to you on that?” You said, smiling widely. He nods, gently grabbing your hand to bring it to his lips. Softly, he kisses the back of your hand. “I hope I’ll get that chance.” He said right before he left the patio. You leaned against the rails, mind going back and forth on how you didn’t jump for joy when he asked you. Part of it was because of Jake, well it was all because of Jake. He’s completely sober and he practically admitted his feelings for you just moments ago.

Now you’re standing here, wanting to go to him. Share the news with him, see what he thinks. So that’s what you did, you left the patio and went down to search for Jake. You looked all throughout the living area where most were still seated and chatting away. You spotted Sunghoon, making a direct b line to him. “Hey, have you seen Jake?” You said, loud enough so he’ll hear you. Sunghoon’s face went white at the mention of his friend's name. Nervous, he tried to direct your attention elsewhere. “Uhh, I don’t know. Jay brought some new drinks out not too long ago, you should go try those.” He said, nudging you slightly to the kitchen.

You gave him a weird look before making your way to the kitchen. Jay was by the counter, snacking on some chips. “Hey y/n, where’d you go earlier? We couldn’t find you or He-“ You cut him off, “Do you know where Jake is?“ Jay choked on his chips, reaching for his drink beside him as he struggled to get his snack down. You gave him a side eye, “Are you okay?” He cleared his throat after a long sip of whatever was in his cup.

“I think you should go enjoy the party y/n.” He said, voice laced with concern. You sighed, grabbing a drink from the cooler and left the kitchen. Jay was no help, Sunghoon was no help and Jake was nowhere to be seen. You gave up, deciding to try and find Winter. As you trailed down the hall towards her room, you heard Yeji and Jake giggling. Your heart felt heavy, but your feet carried on despite the warning from your brain. When your hand reached the knob, you heard shuffling. You should’ve turned back, already knowing what to expect, but you needed to see it in order to believe it. You opened the door, standing in the hallway as you watched Jake and Yeji make out feverishly on your roommates bed.

When the two heard the creak of the door, they pulled away instantly. Your heart couldn’t take it, it tried to hold on, but it shattered. Jake’s eyes went wide at the sight of your doe eyes. He couldn’t see clearly, but he could tell there were tears swelling in the corner. He called out your name, but you ran. You ran to your room and locked the door as quickly as you could. You hated yourself for going to him.

You hated that you hoped he’d be looking for you, alone. You hated how it was her he was with. Most of all, you hated how bad it hurt. Climbing into bed, you heard him outside your door. “Y/n, please open up!” He begged as he wiggled your doorknob. You turned to the wall, tears falling down your face. “Y-Y/n..it’s not what you think.” He pleaded, hoping to get you to let him in. His heart was hurting, you were shutting him out and he was to blame. “Please..let me in.” He said, voice cracking. You couldn’t hold it in, letting out a choked sob into your pillow.

Jake could hear you, over all the music and people talking, he heard your cries and he could only listen. Defeated, he sat against your door, head in his hands as he waited for you to come out.

By morning, you felt the events of the previous night. Like a bad movie, it played in your head over and over till you decided to check your phone. Scanning through your notifications, you saw that none were from Jake. You felt disappointed, hoping there was something from him, but you got nothing. Maybe the next move wasn’t the best, but you did it because you felt like you deserved it. Clicking on Heeseung’s contact, you sent him a quick text.

[10:22am] y/n: about that date..when and where?

Your heart was begging you not to, but you had already hit send. A heavy feeling fell over you, settling in the pit of your stomach when you got a notification.

[10:25am] heeseung <3: it’s a surprise ;)

You giggled, tossing your phone beside you and decided to conquer the day. You were gonna forget about Jake and Yeji, focus on yourself and make the most of the day. This was gonna be it, you didn’t need Jake. You got out of bed, walking to your door. When you unlocked it and pulled it open, Jake fell at your feet. He groaned loudly, waking up almost immediately when his head hit the floor. You stood there, stunned. Had he been out there all night? Why? “Fuck- y/n?” He said, staring up at you with worry. Quickly, he scrambled to get up. He rubbed the back of his head, throbbing pain being accompanied by his aching heart.

“What are you doing here?” You said, looking at your feet. You wanted to run, hide or even push him away, but you couldn’t. “I was waiting for you to come out..but I think I fell asleep.” He said, voice sounding hoarse. You shook your head, he could be so dumb. “Can we talk? Please..?” He pleads, gently grabbing both of your hands and taking them into his. “Only if you freshen up, you look awful.” You said, lifting your head up. He laughed, softly. He did look bad, but he had also never looked so good.

After a quick shower, Jake came back to your room. He saw you sitting on the edge, typing away on your phone. When he set down his shoes, you looked at him. The clothes he left over surprisingly still fit since he started working out when he left them here. You glanced up, nearly choking on spit at the sight. Your heart was racing, but your mind was rejecting. He was with Yeji and you were going on a date with Heeseung, don’t be so naive. “So uhm, about last night-“ Your long sigh cut him off. “Jake, last night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have walked in on you and Yeji.”

His heart hurt at the way you spoke to him. He wanted to beg and scream for you to listen, but he knew how stubborn you were. “I mean about the talk we had while lying down.” He said, a little lower than usual. He had hope, not a lot and not too high, but he had hope. “Oh that? Don’t worry, we’re just friends Jake. It’s different because of how close we are, like how Heeseung and I are going on a date soon.” Oh, a date? When did that happen? His entire world came crashing down at the mental image of you and his roommate on a date.

What if there was more than one? What if Heeseung kissed you? So many what if’s and little answers to soothe his aching heart. Defeated, Jake tightens his fists to try and hold himself together. “Yea, friends.” Friends, that’s all he was to you. He’s been friend zoned before, but it never hurt so bad. Letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Jake hung his head down as he left your room. Your eyes followed him out, swelling at the sadness written across him. You got off your bed, followed him down the hall and watched him gather his things. “You’re leaving? I thought you wanted to talk?” He didn’t look up, he didn’t look back, all he did was grip the door handle. “There’s nothing to say anymore, have fun on your date.” And he was gone.

You thought you’d feel better, but somehow you felt even worse than before. Winter watched from the kitchen, holding plates of pancakes she made. When she locked eyes with you, she saw the tear roll down your cheek. “Oh baby.” She said softly, setting the plates on the counter and quickly made her way to you.

This was it, your date with Heeseung. You had dreamt of this day many times, never actually thinking it would come true. You were sitting in front of your closet, staring at the clothes on hangers. All he told you was, ‘wear something comfortable.’ As if that’s so helpful. Winter was in the bathroom, gathering her makeup for you to put on. Yes, you didn’t own your own makeup. It wasn’t really your style, but you wanted to try it for Heeseung.

When she came into your room, she noticed how still you were. Setting the bags on your bed, she crouched down and sat next to you. “What are we thinking about?” She asked, staring into your closet. “I don’t know.” You replied, playing with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. His sweatshirt, Jake’s. That’s what you were thinking about and it was killing you. You two had never gone so long without talking and it was eating at you badly. Even his sweatshirt felt comforting, yet dense when you put it on last night. “Do you miss him?” She asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned to her, confused. “Who? Heeseung?” She knew you knew who she was talking about, but she played along. “No, silly, Jake.”

Hearing his name after three weeks was like hearing a rocket launch up close. It was loud to your ears, even though she spoke softly. Yes, you did miss him. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you missed him so badly. It was evident on your face when she would see you trying to do things you used to do with him, but you couldn’t because he wasn’t there. “Wanna help me pick out my clothes?” You said, swerving away from talking about Jake. Winter sighed, hoping you’d just open up and see how much he truly meant to you. Baby steps she thought, baby steps. Jumping up, she grabbed your hands and pulled you up with her. “Let’s get you date ready.”

Winter spent about an hour working on your fit for the date, finally deciding on something cute, yet comfortable. She told you to wear your hair down and applied as little makeup as she could. When you checked the time, you chewed on your inner cheek. Winter was going on about some catalogue she read and trying to give you tips to not be nervous, but all you could do was stare at the picture of you and Jake from spring break the previous year. “Y/n!” She said, particularly loud. You flinched, rubbing your ear. “He’s here.” She said, grabbing both of your hands. “Please enjoy yourself.” You rolled your eyes, bringing her in for a hug. “Yes mom, I promise.” She gave you a right squeeze before letting go. She looked at you, eyes telling you what her mouth can’t. Don’t think about Jake. Harder said than done.

You left your room, meeting Heeseung at the door. When it swung open, he was holding flowers. “Wow, you look beautiful.” He said, smiling at your mere presence. Holding the flowers out for you, you grabbed them and smiled. “Thank you, not so bad yourself.” You replied, setting the flowers on the coffee table. “Winter will make sure they’re taken care of, that’s kinda her thing.” He nodded, taking your hand in his and led you to his car. Heeseung holding your hand, you assumed sparks would be flying or maybe fireworks going off.

Nothing, you felt nothing. It was like holding your roommate's hand, just another hand to hold. Being the gentleman he is, Heeseung held the passenger door open for you. You got in, waiting for him to join you. What was wrong with you? Why weren’t you excited? You were excited, but not to the full extent you should’ve been. He is your crush, he was the boy you dreamt of and here you are in his car wishing he was someone else.

When Heeseung got in, he noticed how spaced out you were. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking at you with concern. “Oh uhm, yea.” You replied, faking a smile. Heeseung bought it, surprisingly, and put on one of his playlists as he drove you to your date. The entire ride was silent, letting the music fill the car. Heeseung would hum to the music, but you were looking out the window. Too lost in thought, you didn’t realize the car had stopped. When you came back down to reality, you looked over at Heeseung who was staring at you.

“We’re here, it’s this little ramen shop on the corner where they have the best ramen-“ Your head turned, immediately knowing where it was. “Oh I know this shop! Jake and I came here after it opened.” You said, smiling back at the memories. Heeseung saw how you light up at the thought of his roommate, reading the vibe almost instantly. “It’s him, isn’t it?” His words cut you in half, turning your attention to his sad smile. “What’s who?” You asked, hoping he wouldn’t say the name you had been thinking of. “Jake, you’re thinking of Jake.”

Guilt was flooding through you like an overflow. You wanted to cry because there was so much unsaid, but you held yourself together. “It’s okay y/n, I kinda knew a while ago at the party, but I thought I had a chance.” You reached out, gently grabbing his hand. “I liked you, I really did Heeseung.” His face went blank, then super flushed. “Really? I had no clue.” He said, laughing at his own embarrassment. The two of you sat in silence, listening to the music before he pulled his hand from yours and started driving. “Where are we going?” You asked, looking back at the noodle shop. “To make things right.” He said, smiling.

That was one of the many things that pulled you to have a crush on him in the beginning, his reason to have a balance in lives around him. Midway drive, you saw the clouds darken before the rain began to pour down. It was heavy, as if the clouds were clashing within each other. When he pulled up to his apartment, the two of you ran out of the car and up to the door. Heeseung’s cold, numb fingers fiddled with his keys. Thankfully, Sunghoon heard the commotion and opened the door. The both of you walked in, shivering from the weather. “What’s going on? I thought you were on a date.” He asked, getting Jay’s attention who was on the couch playing games.

You looked all around the living room, frowning when you didn’t spot him. “Is he here?” You asked, rubbing your arms to try and wake yourself up. Sunghoon turned to Jay who looked at you with confusion. “No, he left about 10 minutes ago for your place.” A spark of adrenaline ran through you, immediately reaching for the door. The three boys were shouting in protest, wanting to drive you back. “I can’t wait any longer, I love him!” You shouted as you ran down the steps and off into the city. It took longer than you’d hope, but you just kept running.

When you got close to your apartment, you saw him. He was sitting against your door, soaked from the weather. By now, he had dried a bit. When you got close, he looked up and saw you standing there, staring at him. “Y/n, you’re soaked! Why are you soaked?” He asked, getting up as quick as he could and ran over to grab your hands. You stood, frozen in place as he rubbed your fingers within his in attempts to warm them. “Are you crazy? Who walks in this kind of weather? And where is Heeseung?” He had a million questions and needed answers. “I’m in love with you.”

Time had stopped, the world around the two of you went silent and his aching heart was now mended. Staring at you through thick lashes, he took a deep breath. “A-Are you sure? Because it’s cold and you’re wet and I think you might be sic-“ Your smile made him lose his train of thought. “Just kiss me.” You said, staring into his sweet, brown eyes and that’s exactly what he did. Dropping one of your hands, he came up to cup the side of your cheek. He leaned in, taking your head into his hand and heart into his.

His lips were soft, just how you imagined they’d be. Soft and perfect, like he was to you. He kissed you with such passion, yet he was so gentle. You were engulfed in the love of his kiss, making you forget how cold your body was. Pulling back some, you smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. “Does this mean I’m out the friend zone?” He asked, getting a laugh from you. “You were never truly ‘frienzoned’.” You replied as he returned the laugh. The two of you went inside, trying to warm up as quickly as possible.

When you found yourself in your bed, cuddled up next to him as he read you a book, you asked the dying question. “Why do you mark parts of the book that are your favorite?” He stopped reading, turning to give you a smile. “Because they remind me of you.”

©️liliansun

a/n!: this was the longest au I’ve ever written so I hope you enjoy <3

taglist: @luvrjn @hobistigma @gongiz @jensrose @youngiez @baekhyunstruly @rinyx @softforqiankun @odetoyeonjun @luvrseung @seungstarss

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taem-min-archived · 2 years

Text

Let it Snow || j.jh

PAIRING || Husband! Jaehyun x reader

GENRES || Fluff, Humour, Parent AU, Husband AU, Established Relationship, Christmas AU

SUMMARY || Birthdays were meant to be special and so was Christmas. But what do you do if your daughter holds a tantrum that she didn’t want her birthday on Christmas?

WC || 925

WARNINGS || None

A/N || Rushed up fic, apologies in advance.

TAGGING || @moonsclover @shrutiajit @cerisetalks @gu-nil @cloudyhaos @nctisthecity @woo-minhee02 @en-sun @buttvi @vllxchor @stayinzencity @joepomonerof @imdamnconfused @whatudoing @midnightmoi @xavi-in-kpopland @spacebyuns @queenmedi (If you want to be added to my taglists, fill in this form)

EVENT || Part of the Winter Event: Fluff or Fright by @whipped-kpop-creators , The Memoirs Of A Very Neo Holiday by @neowritingsnet , the Peppermint Latte by @ficscafe and ‘Tis the season event by @superm-net .

PROMPTS || 1. Making snow angels 2. “So... what are we supposed to do under this mistletoe?”

“Surprise!” You screamed, as soon as your daughter opened her eyes a little. As soon as she frowned a little, your husband Jaehyun scooped her up in a hug off her bed.

“Happy birthday, princess!” Jaehyun nuzzled her tummy, expecting to laugh but instead she screamed in anger.

You looked at surprise in him, as he immediately placed Hana back on the bed. You clambered up beside her, as tears of anger streamed down her tiny face.

“Baby?” You asked, panicking. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like my birthday!” She cried. Jaehyun looked at you worriedly.

“Wh-what’s wrong with your birthday?” He asked.

“It’s on the same day as Christmas!”

“Then-then-” You seemed to be struggling to understand what was wrong with this. Yes, her birthday was on Christmas but wasn’t that great? “Then what’s wrong with that?”

She howled louder this time and both you and Jaehyun knew you were in big big trouble for not understanding her sadness.

“I get only one present! And only one day to have proper fun! But everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves on their birthday AND Christmas!”

“Aww, baby is that the problem?” Jaehyun said, scooping her back into his arms. He slowly carried her out of the room, you following the two of them in slight panic as to what to do for your daughter’s new completely reasonable whim. “Today, we will be having so much fun that you won’t even feel the loss of one less fun day! In fact, your mother and I were planning to extend today from twenty four hours to forty eight hours! Right, honey?”

What-

“What? Of course, of course! That way you will have two days!”

Haneul blinked rapidly, sniffling her little nose as her tantrum seemed to be coming to an end slowly.

“Y-You can do that?”

“Of course we can, princess! We can do whatever we want today!”

And with that, Jaehyun barreled out of the house with her in his arms, as your distressed scoldings were blocked out by her screams of laughter and delight.

“Wait Jae! She’s just wearing a thin night dress-”

You just sighed in defeat as you quickly began working on ‘special’ breakfast. The rainbow waffles were almost ready and you sliced down the apples before adding frosting and sprinkles over them to make them look like donuts.

After what felt like an hour, you peeped out of your window to call the two of them in. The last thing you wanted was a half frozen daughter right on her birthday.

What met your eyes shouldn’t have shocked you. But it did shock you.

Lying on the soft snow, making snow angels was your lightly clothed husband and daughter, enjoying to the maximum.

“Haneul!” You screamed, running towards her to pick her off. But Jaehyun was quicker than you.

As soon as he saw you raced towards them, he quickly got up and knocked you off onto the snow.

“Jaehyun!”

“Calm down baby.” His low husky voice and the stupid smirk on his face caused you to stop struggling underneath him.

You blinked at him, unsure what he wanted.

“Mommy, let’s make snow angels!”

You heard Haneul scream from the side and Jaehyun grinned at you once more, rolling off you but still holding you hand. You felt Haneul hold your others.

All of a sudden, despite lying in the cold snow you felt warm. Really warm as a smile that copied your daughter’s crept up your cheeks.

“Yes baby. Let’s make snow Haneuls too!”

She screamed in happiness at the thought, already moving her hands against the snow. You let out a laugh and followed suit.

Soon, all the three of you were inside the warmth of your home, watching and giggling at the many snow angels the three of you had left in the front yard. The evening was setting in and your house was lit up in warm shades.

“Pwetty, isn’t it baby?” Jaehyun asked, holding his daughter in his arms.

Haneul giggled.

“But it's not as pwetty as my angel.”

She laughed loudly, causing you to laugh too.

“Come on baby.” You said, extending both your arms towards her. “We need to get ready for the party!”

Haneul jumped off her father’s arms instead of going to yours and ran towards her room.

“Catch me if you can!” She squealed.

You laughed and were about to follow her when you felt a strong pair of arm snake around your waist.

You smirked, turning to face your husband. He too smirked back and bumped his forehead against you.

“Do you know where we are?”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. His smirk deepened as his eyes flicked up to the ceiling. Yours followed suit.

You smiled at the mistletoe, as you gripped Jaehyun’s shoulder lightly.

“So… what are we supposed to do under this mistletoe?”

You feigned doubt.

“Hmm, I don’t know Mr. Jung. What do we do?”

You felt him cup your cheeks gently as your stomach flipped.

“Then should I kiss you, Mrs. Jung?”

You hummed in response, wanting to feel his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered close as he leaned in closer but before his lip could meet yours, you heard a delighted scream from Haneul’s room.

“Mommy! Daddy! I got two gifts this year! Come quickly!”

Jaehyun sighed, shaking his head happily as you let out a small laugh.

Breaking away from him, the two of you began walking towards her room.

“You better finish what you started, Mr.Jung.”

“Don’t worry. I will.”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

170 notes · View notes

hcuyk · 2 years

Text

꒰ synopsis ꒱ from a dance to acting major, college student juyeon is taking a massive risk by making this huge leap of change—especially when he's casted as prince charming in the university's upcoming children's play 'cinderella'

꒰ pairing ꒱ collegestudent!juyeon x fem!reader

꒰ genre ꒱ college au, strangers (with a mix of enemies and childhood friends) to lovers, fluff, angst, huge dosage of crack. sf9, the rest of the boyz, and bvndit all make an appearance

꒰ warnings ꒱ profanities, bits of a toxic relationship. if you find any more, please inform me

꒰ word count ꒱ 12.5k+

꒰ perspective ꒱ second person omniscient

‘ author's note!! 🍃 — this fic is for @ateez-elena and @nayuyeons exchange fic event. the due date is arriving soon, and this fic is nowhere near done. i feel absolutely terrible for procrastinating, and i decided that it's better to post something rather than nothing. hi dear @jeongjaebae, i was your 🐳. what a surprise 😭 /s. can't believe you found out who i was after like, the first ask i sent you LMAO. i really, really hate how i have to separate this oneshot into two parts (maybe even more...unintentional series? 😅), but i really do hope you enjoy this :( it's all crack in all honesty, so i hope this fic makes you laugh. i'm so incredibly sorry for being disappointing, but i'm so glad we became closer through this event! i hope this fic makes a wonderful end to your 2021 :] a huge thanks to @stealanity, @yangkiwi, @fullsunfluff, @tinisprout, @bbanghoonie, and @decembermoonskz for all beta reading this fic. in fact, all of this part has been beta read EXCEPT for the last scene, so that's my surprise to you six <3

‘ taglist ›› @yourjaylaks @wooyoung-a @kimaya2209 @armysantiny @changminurheart @moonieric @sunfics @lcvekdy @deputyjuyeon @simpforsunwoo @nyujjan @jaekiths @i6swoo @fairycob @karsohn @nilesig @twentysixofmays @changmin-wrlds @mavericsohn @lilyujin

NAVIGATION | TBZ MASTERLIST | PART TWO

It’s every rising celebrity’s dream to walk the red carpet in Hollywood. To take a step out of a luxurious limousine whilst dressed in the finest clothes your stylist has to offer is a dream come true—especially when accompanying the flashing lights from paparazzi and calls of your name would be a bright red carpet waiting for you to walk all over it.

Juyeon knows that day hasn’t arrived for him yet; why would it? He’s still a broke college student attending an elite performing arts university, and the only reason he’s surviving is because of the constant dependency he has on his three not-so-academically-smart roommates.

This point is proven when Juyeon opens the door to his dorm with groceries lining his arms. Immediately, Juyeon’s roommates greet him with a loud pop of confetti and the unraveling of toilet paper on the ground, providing him a pathway. He flinches when his roommates start screaming—and for all the wrong reasons.

For one, the screams aren’t even directed at Juyeon. Instead, Changmin’s scoldings are towards Jacob for popping the confetti unexpectedly. His booming voice fills the dorm when he rushes to his fish tank by the front door, and slowly—but surely enough—his temper morphs into despair as he begins to sob over how some of the confetti managed to make its way into his precious fishies’ home.

Jacob is continuously pouring out apologies although his attention is fully focused on the toilet paper roll he kicked from the entrance. The roll had traveled a tad bit further than expected considering it’s now rolling around the dorm like it was nobody’s business, forcing Jacob into a game of chase.

Juyeon is left appalled by the chaotic scene, and all he could focus on was the red scribbles on the wasted toilet paper that swept the ground as if it were to mimic a red carpet. He assumes they all tried coloring it with red Crayola markers since he can see a pile of the stationary item by the dining table, but then he realizes there is one more roommate he hasn’t spotted.

His groceries drop to the ground when his gaze finally lands on the youngest out of the four in the corner of the dorm, holding a piece of printer paper with ‘WELLCuM HoME, CHEE-TAR’ written with the same red marker. Haknyeon’s bright demeanor doesn’t falter when he approaches Juyeon with it, shoving the message in front of his face.

“Wrong sign, Haknyeon!” Jacob informs from across the room, tripping over his feet in the midst of his chase for the runaway toilet paper.

A ‘huh?’ leaves the shorter male when he turns to face the paper, and his face becomes pale at the sight of what’s written.

“Shit, my bad.”

He crumbles it up instantly and drops it to the ground before shoving his hand into the pockets of his jeans in search of the correct sign Jacob was referring to.

Meanwhile, Juyeon’s jaw falls slack when he sees Changmin cupping his hands in order to collect the gold pieces of confetti from his fish tank, dumping it all on the ground shortly after. His mumbled profanities are loud enough for all of them to hear, but it really only reaches Juyeon’s ears considering the other two were occupied.

“Found it!” Haknyeon announces, fumbling to unfold it. He then shoves it back into Juyeon’s face, making him stumble backwards.

‘WELCOME HOME, CHEATER’ is what the new sign said.

Haknyeon’s shit-eating grin is smacked right back onto his lips, and he has no shame when he waves it in front of his face.

“Welcome home!!”

“I thought we agreed to not use either of those signs,” Changmin mutters, closing the fish tank shut after shaking his hands free from the water.

Haknyeon’s smile falls along with his arms, dropping them to his sides as he turns his body to fully face Changmin.

“Mind you, Mister Fish-Man, you were the one who suggested this idea.” Haknyeon points the paper at Changmin, shaking it aggressively.

“I got it!” Jacob exclaims, victoriously raising the toilet paper roll in the air from behind the couch for the other three to see.

Changmin provides no change in temper by grabbing Haknyeon’s hoodie, eyes burning into the smaller figure before using the material to wipe his drenched hands.

The younger male gasps, and before he could retaliate by grabbing and yanking Changmin’s hair out of his scalp, Jacob pulls Haknyeon back from his opponent. He pushes the smaller male aside and drapes an arm around Juyeon’s shoulders, distracting him from what the male had just witnessed. He places the roll of toilet paper onto the ground while also leaving Juyeon’s groceries by the door and drags him over to the dining table.

“How was the audition?” he asks, nonchalantly taking a step over the manmade puddle of fish tank water Changmin created with bits of confetti floating amidst it. He has a bright smile on his face like everything that had just happened was a daily occurrence which Juyeon eventually comes to accept because again, he has been living with these losers for the past three years.

“Cheater!!” Haknyeon yells when the two sit down by the table. The boy is then tackled onto the cushions of the couch by Changmin, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

Jacob rolls his eyes, dismissing Haknyeon’s name-calling with the wave of his hand.

“Ignore him. You know he’s just sad about losing the second greatest dancer at this school.”

Juyeon’s eyebrows shoot up, straightening his back.

“Second?” he questions. He then scoffs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I mean, I still go here. I’m just no longer a dance major.”

“Duh, but Haknyeon doesn’t care about that.” Jacob pauses. “Also, the greatest dancer is me, obviously. No one can beat me. I’m superior.” He taps his fingers against the surface of the table, a look of contentment dancing on his face.

Changmin’s head shoots up from his temporary brawl with Haknyeon to glare at Jacob.

“Say that again?!” he growls from across the room. He has Haknyeon pinned beneath him, and the younger boy takes his chance to knee Changmin in the abdomen while he wasn’t looking.

Changmin yelps in pain and attempts to reciprocate the action, elbow pressing down onto Haknyeon’s rib cage.

Jacob has his head turned 180 degrees, watching the two resume their physical fight. He shakes his head before turning back to Juyeon, calling back out to Changmin.

“Just be grateful Juyeon changed majors and stepped down from his position for you.”

“Whatever,” Changmin carelessly yells, trying to restrain Haknyeon’s feet with his own.

Juyeon snickers as he watches, truly wondering how he became friends with his roommates.

“Anyway, back to the audition talk.” Jacob snaps his fingers in front of Juyeon’s face, receiving his attention once again. His hands clasp together and provide a stand for his chin, looking at Juyeon with a tilted head. “How was it?”

Juyeon stays silent for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders, choosing to give Jacob a lackluster response.

“It was...okay.”

The creases on Jacob’s forehead bunches up.

“Just okay?”

“CHEA-...close my mouth one more time and I won’t hesitate to bite your fingernails off,” Haknyeon threatens, eyes piercing straight into Changmin’s.

“Cut it out, you two,” Jacob groans, unconsciously slamming his fist onto the table. Not only does the noise stop the fight from continuing, but it also scares the shit out of the other three in the room.

Changmin hesitantly removes himself from Haknyeon before sluggishly walking over to the table. The younger does the same, no longer caring about the wet fingerprints soaked into his hoodie.

Jacob’s lips curl up in satisfaction when the two sit down, bringing his attention right back to the male in question.

“Seriously, Juyeon,” Jacob tries again, “how did it go?”

The three roommates are bent over the table, pupils bursting with curiosity as they all lock their invested gazes on Juyeon’s figure.

Oddly enough, the undivided attention doesn’t faze Juyeon in the slightest. He rests his chin on top of his crossed arms, looking up at all of them with an impending smile lingering on his lips.

“Actually? I think it went pretty well.”

The casting director for the children’s play is Sangyeon, an upperclassman that you’ve known since freshman year. He’s only two years older, but he’s always proved way more mature—whether it be through his actions or his looks—so to you, he has always been someone you looked up to.

But the one thing you despised about him was how unpredictable he could be.

Usually, callbacks would be announced a day after auditions had finished. Emphasis on usually.

What you didn’t expect was for him to text group chat about the cast list being posted an hour shortly after auditions had ended, being the reason why you and your boyfriend are currently racing past the dorms, pushing past students in your way.

Heavy steps down the stairways echo off the narrow walls, and you’re holding Hwiyoung’s hand throughout all of it.

You wouldn’t be this desperate if it was regarding callbacks, but since the official cast list is out, your mind is spiraling with your heart praying that you got in.

Although you and Hwiyoung manage to land every main lead role, the rush of adrenaline remains inside the both of you. Nothing could replace the victorious wash of relief when you see your names on the cast list.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t help how the auditorium is across campus, but this doesn’t stop either of you from pushing forward. You two are adamant on beating the crowd, but as time passes, that little hope has faded.

Hwiyoung’s hand falls out of yours when his steps slow to a stop on the sidewalk, checking his phone for the notification he just received.

You whip your head around as you still your tracks, brows furrowed as you urge him to follow.

“Hurry up, Hwi. By the time we get there, we probably won’t even get a good look at the roster,” you say with a huff, keeping your hands on your hips.

He snorts at your remark, eyes unwavering from his screen.

So you approach him due to sparked curiosity, looking over his arm. His screen shows a text message from Kang Chanhee, or more better known as Chani, that says ‘sorry, man’ with a photo attached right below it. Taking a closer look, you realize the photo was the cast list you two were racing for.

As expected, your name sits right next to the role for Cinderella, but that isn’t what has your eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Lee Juyeon is the name that replaces your boyfriend on the cast list. You and your boyfriend are fully convinced that he got the role for Prince Charming due to the high praise he received during the audition, but that only lands him as the understudy.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, shutting off his phone.

While Hwiyoung is processing the fate he’s led to, you’re busy trying to pinpoint the familiarity of the name Lee Juyeon.

“Lee Juyeon,” you whisper, trying to rack up your brain in order to recall the face the name belonged to. It’s a name that easily rolls off your tongue, giving you a sense of butterflies in the process, yet you couldn’t remember where you’ve heard it.

Hwiyoung watches you with a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. Irritation becomes etched onto his features when he notices that you aren’t just as outraged as he was, making a show out of angrily running a hand through his hair with a sigh of frustration slipping past his lips.

“Forget it.”

His suddenty disrupts you from your thoughts, snapping your head up to look at him.

“What?”

“Forget it,” he repeats, tucking his phone into his back pocket. He then gestures to the two of you, circling his index finger in the air. “Whatever this is? Forget it.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he’s referring to, and the pause only makes him even more bothered.

“Are-...are you being serious right now?” you stutter, unsure if you were understanding his point.

Eyes begin to shoot your way with whispers surrounding you as a pair. While attending one of the elite schools for performing arts, you and Hwiyoung are known to get the main lead in every single play the university has to offer. It became no secret when you two got together after the well-known play Romeo & Juliet, being the campus sweethearts everyone has come to know and love.

To see a mix of distress and confusion washed over both of your faces is certainly groundbreaking in the drama department, and Hwiyoung couldn’t bear the humiliation.

So he snickers.

“There’s no use in us when you’re going to be up on stage sharing the main lead with another man,” he hisses, avoiding the glances from others.

“What the hell is your problem?” your voice raises, growing defensive at the sudden change in attitude.

“My problem is that some dick we don’t even know took my role in the play.” He turns around and starts to walk, avoiding the gazes of others. “Understudy my ass. I’m done. We’re done.”

Your jaw locks in place as you pull him back by the arm, making him face you. “Hwi, don’t play around right now. You don’t get one fucking role and you want to break up with me?”

His eyes meet yours, and it’s a look you’re more than familiar with.

“I’m sick and tired of always being seen as one step behind you. I get the role as the main lead just as much as you do, yet it’s always ‘Y/N this, Y/N that’. No need to shove it in my face that you’re able to land every single role you audition for,” he spits. This has been a conversation you two have shared more often than not, but you would’ve never thought he’d break up with you because of it.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” your voice lightens, reaching out for his arm in order to comfort him, but to Hwiyoung, your words come off as condescending, so he shoves your hand away.

“Again, forget it,” he grumbles, tongue poking his cheek. His eyes are downturned, and he gives you one last look before taking a few steps back.

“We’re done.”

“It feels weird to not have you and Hwiyoung making out every second in front of us.”

“It feels weird to not even have Hwiyoung here for the casting celebration,” Songhee corrects, elbowing the male beside her.

Your eyes instinctively roll at your two friends’ unnecessary comments, fingers tapping against the surface of the table while Jungwoo keeps replaying the video of you and Hwiyoung that has been going around campus.

Casting celebrations have always been more lively from what you remember. Hwiyoung would have his arm around your shoulder while everyone laughs about the roles they’ll be playing. This time, the diner feels lifeless and empty with just the four of you sitting at a booth in the corner.

Younghoon shoots her a stern look before his eyes magically shift to having sparkles within them at the sight of the waitress approaching your booth. He thanks her with a courteous bow of his head when she hands him his milkshake, eyes curving into crescents when he takes his first sip.

You thank her through a whisper when she hands you the slice of cake you ordered, cheek propped up on your fist as you use your free hand to poke your dessert with a fork.

“You’re still watching that?” Songhee questions, diving straight into the burger she just ordered.

“More like analyzing it.” Your friend sighs, slouching back into her seat. When you lean over to see, Jungwoo doesn’t hesitate to show you her screen, having you experience the scene once again. You could barely hear what the argument was about, but that didn’t even matter with how Hwiyoung had treated you in public.

“I still can’t believe someone filmed us from their window,” you mutter, shaking your head in disappointment after seeing how Hwiyoung pushed your hand away.

“He really lost his temper, huh?” Jungwoo turns off her phone and sets it aside to focus on the fries in front of her.

“People don’t get roles they audition for. Big deal. I don’t know why he made such a fuss about it.” You shove a forkful of cake in your mouth in an attempt to cheer yourself up, but it comes as no use.

“I wouldn’t be here either if I was casted as an understudy.” Younghoon stirs his straw around, eyes focused on you. “None of the understudies are even here.”

You scoff. “Half of the cast isn’t here.”

“I agree with Younghoon,” a new voice inputs, completely disregarding your previous statement.

The door falls shut after the three males enter, bundled up in coats as they greet you guys with the wave of their hands.

Kevin continues what he was saying as he chooses to sit in the booth behind you.

“I mean, imagine getting the main male lead for every play and then become an understudy out of nowhere. Like, this is Hwiyoung we’re talking about. He didn’t even get a role.”

“Well you got the role of the evil stepmother’s cat,” Jungwoo retorts, turning her head around to look at the boy with glasses. “I’m sure Hwiyoung would’ve reacted the same way if he had gotten your role.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to expand my horizons?” Kevin cocks a brow as if he was testing your friend. “Not to mention it’s a children’s play. We’re performing for children. You don’t see the mice complaining about their roles, do you?”

Kevin juts his chin towards the pair that chose to sit at the bar, lips pressed into a line. You and Jungwoo go to look at the two, watching how easily Sunwoo and Eric got into a quarrel after deciding what to get.

“You pay, I’m broke!” Eric exclaims, showing Sunwoo his empty wallet.

“I don’t think Hwiyoung would’ve wanted to be chosen as a mouse either,” Jungwoo later adds, going back to facing Kevin.

The boy shrugs, adjusting the beanie on the top of his head. “Hey, I’m just saying it’s better than being a second choice.”

“Well you didn’t have to go that far,” Songhee chuckles, patting her lips clean with a napkin.

“Where’s everyone else?” you ask in an attempt to shift the topic.

Kevin darts his gaze towards the clock at your question before providing you a useless answer.

“I have no clue. I only know Yiyeon won’t be coming because she’s with Sangyeon right now.”

The door to the diner is pushed open, introducing another group of the casted members.

“We’re here!” Seungeun sing-songs, announcing her presence with a worn-out Choi Chanhee tailing after her steps.

Seungeun, the youngest out of the entire cast, is a freshman that proved to be one of the more talented actors on her first day here, so it came as no surprise how she got casted as the queen.

Chanhee, on the other hand, usually gets the second male lead, so it was a shock to everyone when he received the narrator role. Then again, there is no second male lead in Cinderella, so the decision makes sense on Sangyeon’s part.

Hyunjae walks in and keeps the door open for Simyeong before revealing the brown bags in their hands by raising them in the air for you all to see.

“We made cupcakes!” Simyeong grins, jumping her way over to your booth.

Sunwoo and Eric leave the bar to join Hyunjae and Chanhee at Kevin’s table, starvation causing their eyes to peek into the bags.

“We made enough so everyone could get two,” Simyeong explains while Seungeun urges Songhee and Younghoon to scoot over. Seungeun sits down while Simyeong remains standing, taking the boxes out of the bag as Jungwoo helps.

“We may have more than intended though,” Seungeun huffs, taking the bag from the two after it's emptied.

“Are the understudies not arriving?” Younghoon asks, looking up at Simyeong after taking an obnoxiously loud sip out of his milkshake.

“How would I know?” She shrugs, opening the box in order to distribute the cupcakes to everyone.

While your table is invested in sweets, your eyes couldn’t help but wander out the window, watching the stars overtake the sky as the sun sets.

“Why would they be?” Hyunjae interjects from the other table, already taking a bite out of the cupcake he made himself. “We all already saw how Hwiyoung reacted. I’m sure the other people that didn’t get in are just as disappointed.”

You sigh at the reference Hyunjae made towards the video everyone on campus has seen by now, but you continue to keep silent. You truly didn’t want to think about how you got publicly dumped for the stupidest reason on earth. It wasn’t like you had chosen the roles. If anything, Hwiyoung should’ve been throwing a fit at Sangyeon.

Considering you’re sitting right across from him, Younghoon easily spots all the signs your figure is radiating. He looks at Hyunjae and motions him to not continue any further and purses his lips. Hyunjae receives the hint and decides to exit the conversation, joining Kevin’s one instead.

Jungwoo taps your arm and slides over a cupcake, a warm smile wavering on her face.

“It’ll be okay. Just know Hwiyoung was a dick for acting like that.”

You thank her through a whisper and scoop the frosting onto a nearby napkin, earning a look of disgust from Jungwoo.

“I just don’t get it,” you mutter, keeping your voice low. “How could Hwiyoung not have gotten that role?”

You look up from your cupcake and see Younghoon eyeing your frosting.

“Do you want it?” you warily ask, hesitantly sliding it over to him.

He nods and collects it from you before dumping it into his milkshake

“I don’t even get why we’re friends with you,” Songhee grumbles, discreetly moving away from Younghoon.

“It’s better than plainly wasting it. Besides, frosting on its own is disgusting.” He mixes his milkshake with his straw once again, leisurely stirring the beverage.

“Who’s this Juyeon kid anyway?” Simyeong suddenly asks while pulling over a chair, sitting down before directing her gaze straight at you for an answer. “He’s not even in our group chat dedicated to the drama department.”

“There’s no Juyeon in our department?” The slight shock in your tone has everyone at your table looking at you puzzled. You could only shrug your shoulders in response and pop the rest of the cupcake into your mouth, speaking through muffles. “The name Juyeon is oddly familiar to me.”

“Well he certainly isn’t in our department if he isn’t in our group chat.”

Younghoon nods his head, agreeing with Songhee.

“If you think about it, you’ve been stuck with us since your very first day here. If you knew a Juyeon, we would at least know of him.”

“He has a point,” Kevin quips, joining in on your conversation once more from behind.

Jungwoo heaves a sigh and turns to look at him, flicking his forehead. “Go focus on your table’s conversation, kitty.”

Kevin frowns, and before he could face his group, Jungwoo uses her thumb to remove some of the frosting from his cheek.

“Maybe he was somebody you knew from high school,” Simyeong suggests, “or possibly someone you knew from your childhood?”

“What are the chances of that happening?” Songhee licks her lips clean and sets the cupcake wrapper down on the table. “IST is a pretty big school. It could just be somebody with the same name.”

“But his surname is also vaguely familiar,” you murmur. You curse at your brain for forgetting such a name, but you shrug it off, realizing that it probably isn’t as important as you’re making it out to be.

“Eh, forget it.” You try to move on from the subject, but that attempt fails when Jungwoo chooses to pick it right back up.

“But don’t you find it weird how some random kid that—mind you—isn’t even part of the department just auditioned and somehow got the main role? Prince Charming is literally every guy’s dream to play.”

“You know Sangyeon is picky with who he chooses for plays,” Younghoon reasons. “Besides, he attends our school, right? He’s probably just really talented and managed to somehow get the role.”

“But to beat Hwiyoung? That’s-...that’s different.”

“It doesn’t make sense, right?” Jungwoo looks at you for confirmation before turning to look at everyone else. “Sure, I’m a talented actor, but I won’t suddenly win a dancing competition one day, you get me? We may all be part of a performing arts university, but it really doesn’t mean shit when our departments are completely different.”

“I wouldn’t really say they’re completely different, but I see your point,” Younghoon replies. “It’s not impossible though.”

“Sangyeon really must’ve been out of his mind for choosing some nobody over Hwiyoung,” you mutter, finally finishing the cake on your plate.

“Are you guys talking about Juyeon?” Chanhee asks. He gestures for Jungwoo to slide over so he could join your booth.

You perk up at the mention. “Yeah, we are. Why? Do you know him?”

“We’re talking about Lee Juyeon, right? The guy that got casted as Prince Charming?”

Everyone at the table nods, eager for Chanhee to continue.

“Oh, then yeah. I’m friends with his roommates.”

Noises like speeding footsteps clashing against the surface of the ground and chairs falling provide a regular day at Juyeon’s dorm. Jacob locking Changmin out of their shared room is also deemed rather normal, and it’s the reason Haknyeon becomes his source of entertainment.

But it really all backfires.

“Get back here, Ji Changmin,” Haknyeon demands, dodging the obstacles in his way as he chases Changmin around the dorm.

Juyeon sits on the couch unbothered with the volume turned up unnecessarily high to overpower the screams from the two children he considered his friends. His hand is buried in a bowl of popcorn, enjoying movie night by himself while Haknyeon snatches his underwear back from Changmin.

“The next time you steal my underwear, I’m shoving your toes down your fishes’ throats.”

Changmin returns Haknyeon’s scowl with a gasp that fills his lungs to the brim and quickly tosses his arms around his fishes’ tank. A pout is smeared across his face as he presses his cheek into the glass.

“Don’t you dare bring my fishies into this!”

“Okay guys, shut it,” Jacob says after exiting his room. The light from his phone screen illuminates the relaxed features on his face as he walks into the living room, choosing to join Juyeon by the couch. “Hey Juyeon, remember the audition you had this morning?”

He taps his shoulder, looking up from his phone to see how his roommate reacts.

“Uh...yeah. What about it?” Juyeon remains clueless as he picks up the television remote from the coffee table, lowering the volume.

With underwear bunched up in his hand, Haknyeon’s footsteps lead him over to the couch and joins the two by sitting next to Juyeon.

Both Jacob and Juyeon look at him weirdly with expressions that question what he was doing, but they gradually move on with their conversation as they realize he probably just came for the popcorn.

“You know Chanhee, right?” Jacob questions.

“Chanhee? As in Choi Chanhee?” Changmin’s voice squeaks and immediately detaches himself from the fish tank in order to join his friends, choosing to sit on the ground considering the lack of space left on the couch. He crosses his legs, only having eyes for Jacob due to his piqued interest. “Like, my bestie since third grade?”

“The one you introduced me and Haknyeon to?” When Changmin nods his head, Jacob continues. “Then yeah, that’s him. I have his number.”

He obnoxiously shows off his phone to Changmin and bobs his head.

“What does this have to do with me?” Juyeon interjects, gaze shifting between his three roommates. Juyeon would say he’s equally close with all of them, but sometimes he does feel a bit left out. Then again, he couldn’t really put them at fault since he was the one who switched majors.

He’s only ever heard of Chanhee through Jacob and Changmin, but he knows Haknyeon is fairly close with him as well.

“He ghosted me last night,” Haknyeon murmurs, grabbing a throw pillow to hug while shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

“Deserved.”

The next thing Changmin knows is that a pillow is tossed at his head in an attempt to knock him out.

“Anyway,” Jacob states rather loudly in order to cover up his roommate’s wrongdoing, “he got casted as the narrator for that Cinderella play you auditioned for. He also said you got Prince Charming.”

Juyeon’s eyes bulge out of bewilderment, unsure if he has heard his friend correctly.

“What?? Aren’t callbacks being announced tomorrow? Is he saying I got called back?”

Jacob shrugs, giving his phone over to Juyeon so he could check for himself. “He specifically said cast list, so I’m assuming there’s no callbacks for this play.”

“No way, man! You got in?” Changmin slaps his friend’s feet playfully, a grin graciously placed on his lips for once.

“You’re growing up way too fast,” Haknyeon sighs, exaggerating the frown on his face.

“Did you think you wouldn’t get in?” Jacob asks, giving Juyeon’s shoulder a light shove.

“I would’ve thought I’d get in as an extra mouse or something,” Juyeon murmurs, staring at the text messages in front of him.

“It’s not a middle school play,” Changmin retorts, earning himself another pillow being thrown at his head.

“Well apparently the cast list is official. They’re celebrating right now.” Suddenly, Jacob locks his arm around Juyeon’s neck, pulling his head to his chest before messing up his hair. “I’m so proud of you!!”

“That’s our boy,” Changmin coos, grabbing his ankles and aggressively shaking them.

“Just because you miss your own dog doesn’t mean you should treat Juyeon like one,” Haknyeon blandly states through a mouthful of popcorn, poking Changmin’s side with his feet.

Juyeon falls oblivious to everything happening around him when he sees Chanhee send a photo of the cast list as evidence. He shoves Jacob away so he could look at it, eliciting a laugh out of the elder. His eyes scan through the photo eagerly, and he could’ve sworn his heart stopped at the sight of your name next to Cinderella.

“Y/N...?”

The laughter and upcoming quarrel fades into the distance when Juyeon looks up from the phone.

“Do you know her?” Jacob asks, arm propped up against the backrest of the couch.

“Isn’t she the one that always gets the main roles in plays? There’s this girl in literature that always complains about it.”

Jacob snorts at Haknyeon’s response, and Changmin decides to pitch in what he’s also heard.

“I heard it’s deserved though! Everyone is always talking about how talented she is on stage, and Chanhee is always praising her after every show they’re in together.” Changmin adjusts his posture, straightening his back.

“It really isn’t surprising since the drama department is the most well known department at IST,” Jacob comments, nodding his head along with what everyone else has been saying. “She’s really bound to become a celebrity once she graduates.”

“Not before me, though!”

Changmin dodges the next pillow that was aimed at him.

“Y/N as in L/N Y/N, right?”

The three heads turn to look at Juyeon.

“Duh.” Haknyeon deadpans. “Who else? You know who she is, right?”

“I didn’t know she goes to this school,” he mumbles, fiddling with the phone in his head.

“Am I missing something here? Are we missing something?” Changmin asks whilst also speaking for both Haknyeon and Jacob. “Have you known her in the past?”

“I guess you could say that.” Juyeon gives Jacob back his phone, but your name continues to float around in his mind.

“Come on, Juyeon.” Changmin whines, tugging on his pants. “We need more information.”

All the boy could do is shrug his shoulders, not willing to explain everything, so he opts to say something rather vague with his head facing his lap.

“It’s just a name I’d never forget.”

After informing your group of friends about his connections with Juyeon, Chanhee wasn’t given another chance to say another word when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He excused himself from your table and isolated himself in the opposite side of the diner, fingers constantly occupied with typing into his phone.

You kept an eye on him for the rest of the night, detailing every bit about his expressions while the conversation shifted to how costumes would turn out for the play. Simyeong even brought up how you’ll be able to pull off a dress transformation, but you didn’t hear a word she said until Jungwoo nudged your arm to drag you back into reality.

Until the very end, your mind felt occupied with the amount of questions you had for Chanhee. He never returned to your table and instead left in a blink of an eye.

Once everyone departed from the diner, you dedicated all your time to spamming him through text. Chanhee would often ignore your messages or leave them on read, and for good reason too, but this matter was urgent.

Sure, you and Chanhee both share the same first class in the morning—and you’ll definitely get to see who this Juyeon person is the day after—but the sense of familiarity from his name wouldn’t allow you to sleep into the next day. You stayed up for hours, expecting a response, but you eventually allowed your eyes to gradually fall shut. You figured he was just exhausted after dealing with Seungeun, Hyunjae, and Simyeong all in the same kitchen as they struggled to bake cupcakes.

Having English Literature first thing on a Monday morning was never to your liking, but this time it came in your favor.

“Chanhee!” you scream out, waving your hands in the air when you see him leaving his dormitory.

He looks at you for a mere second before purposely turning his back, walking in the opposite direction. You run to catch up to him, hands grabbing at the hook of his backpack to slow his steps. He scowls at his failed attempt to make an escape, but you know it’s all jokes considering you always pick him up from the front of his building.

“Why didn’t you respond to any of my texts last night?” you interrogate, skipping down the sidewalk with him by your side.

“I was asleep, duh.”

“Woah, no need for you to be a weisenheimer.”

“...A what now?”

“We’re getting off topic, Chanhee,” you deadpan, slowing your steps as he begins to slow his.

“Why are you so interested anyway?” he snorts. “I already responded to your question.”

“Oh come on, Chanhee.” you whine, grabbing one of his arms to shake. “Put yourself in my shoes, yeah? I basically got utterly humiliated by the love of my life publicly because of him.”

“Okay one, don’t call Hwiyoung the love of your life. That’s just weird. Two, you really can’t blame Juyeon for your breakup, you know that right?.” He eyes you from his peripheral vision and releases a sigh at the sight of your desperate state. Your hair isn’t properly styled like usual and your face is bare of makeup.

“Please, Chanhee?”

“It’s not like I know much about Juyeon to begin with.” Upon reaching the building where your class is located, Chanhee provides you entrance when he pulls the door open.

“Just give me whatever info you got.” You watch as he tails after you before sticking by his side.

“They’re all dance majors,” he reveals, finally giving into your antics. He lists their names from the top of his head without hesitation. “Changmin, Jacob, and Haknyeon. Juyeon was one too, but from what I recall, he switched.”

“I guess that explains the sudden appearance of his name on the cast list,” you murmur, connecting the dots. “Why’d he switch?”

“How would I know?”

You return Chanhee’s previous favor by pulling the door open to the lecture hall, giving him the privilege of sliding inside first as he continues talking.

“I’m only close to his roommates because we all share social sciences. Well, that and I’ve known Changmin since I was eight, but that’s besides the point.” He leads you up the steps and into your usual seats in the back. “I went to one of Changmin’s performances in the past, and Juyeon was the opening act there. Honestly? He’s extremely talented. His stage presence is flawless, and Changmin always praised him too.”

Your friend’s words have your brows furrowed.

“Why would someone that talented switch majors? I’m sure he’d want to be a professional dancer, right? Or a choreographer? So why Prince Charming?”

All Chanhee does is shrug when he sits down, giving you a lack of response.

“Ask him when you see him at the script read through tomorrow.”

Improvisation as your last class of the day has always been your favorite.

Your professor, Kim Inseong, is only five years older than you, but he’s one of your better professors for the semester. Granted, it’s only improvisation, but he teaches it better than all of your previous high school drama teachers.

You love every second of his teachings. The way he engages each and every student is something you look up to, and his feedback has always been very genuine and helpful.

You would’ve been excited to see him—especially since he’s the director of the play—if you didn’t share the exact same class as your ex-boyfriend.

At first it was a blessing, but now it seems like it was a plan just to bite you in the back, cursing you for the rest of your college life.

Two days without your boyfriend has felt like hell.

When you enter the lecture hall, your two close friends remain in the center of the room whilst Hwiyoung is nowhere to be found. It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s settled for a spot in the back with his feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him. He’s surrounded by his personal group of friends, and they are people you were never really fond of.

“You were almost late,” Younghoon hums when you choose to sit next to him, picking at his fingernails.

“Let her be, Hoon.” Songhee sighs from behind the two of you, leaning forward to flick the back of his head.

“Happy Monday, everyone,” your professor sing-songs. His booming voice startles the entire class due to its suddenness, and he enjoys the faces you all make because of it. His six-foot-tall composition moves to sit on the only stool in the room, hands resting in his lap as he eyes all his students.

“I heard auditions went well,” he, unnecessarily, comments. “And I believe Sangyeon did a wonderful job with choosing the cast.”

A scoff can be heard from the back of the room, and you could only assume it was from the one and only ex-boyfriend of yours, yet your professor doesn’t seem to bat an eye in his direction.

“Round of applause to everyone that made it in!”

Everyone claps, and you could just feel Hwiyoung’s eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Ignore him,” Younghoon whispers amidst the applause. “He’s just being a spoiled brat.”

“Don’t call him that,” you whisper quietly because deep down, you feel like you would’ve acted the same way if you got casted as an understudy.

“Now, before we continue with where we left off last class, let’s do a quick warm-up, shall we?” Your professor scans the room with his chin between his thumb and index finger.

As much as you enjoy the improv games he makes you all play, you’re praying that you don’t get chosen to come up.

Unfortunately, he’s an unpredictable man that enjoys playing with students’ anxiety.

“Younghoon, Vivi, Jaeyoon, Yves, Hwiyoung, and…” Professor Kim takes a pause to look around the room once more, a mischievous smile making its way up his lips when his eyes land on his final target, “Y/N.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you say louder than intended.

“I know right? Why does he always call on me first?”

Songhee snorts and pushes Younghoon out of his seat, but she stops you from leaving the row by grabbing your wrist.

“Hey, you know you could always tell him you’re not feeling well,” she whispers, but all you could think about is how pathetic you’d look in front of Hwiyoung if you used that lame excuse.

“It’s only a warm-up,” you reassure. “I’ll get over it.”

Songhee pouts when you leave her alone, and you’re joined by Vivi when she approaches you.

“Congrats on getting Cinderella,” she whispers, accompanying you to the front of the room.

You thank her with the slight bow of your head, and soon enough you’re both joining your peers on the platform.

Professor Kim has his hands clasped together after moving the stool to the side, making sure he was out of the way.

“Now, you all might be asking ‘what improv game will we have for our warm-up today?’.” He stands up. “Perhaps it’s Bus Stop? Late For Work? Questions Only?”

“If it’s Late For Work, I’m actually going to stop, drop, and roll out of this course,” Younghoon mutters, bringing his arms over his chest.

“Younghoon!” Professor Kim calls out, and your friend nearly jumps in his spot. He points at him, then you, and then Yves. “You three, go stage right. The rest of you? Stage left,” he directs.

You do as you’re told, and deep inside you’re grateful that he didn’t place you and Hwiyoung together.

Well, that is until you realize what game he has up his sleeve.

“Yes, no, and I are the forbidden words for today’s game.” He leaves the platform and settles down in one of the seats in the front row, kicking his foot over his other leg. “The person in front of each line will step forward and begin the scene with a prompt I give you. Say yes, no, or I and you’ll be eliminated from the platform. You can’t take too long either.”

You’ve played this game multiple times in the past, but this is the first time you’ve ever felt jittery during an improv game. The last thing you need for the day is to share the same stage with Hwiyoung.

Jaeyoon raises his hand. “Can we say yeah?”

“No,” your professor replies immediately. “No saying yeah, nah, uh-huh, mhm, I’m, or any of that sort.”

“He’s cruel,” Younghoon mutters, pushing you in front of him. You glare at him, but you’re also not complaining since Hwiyoung is at the end of his line.

The game starts off with the only other two girls on the platform, and with loud cackles from the other students, Vivi is shortly removed from the game after instinctively responding with ‘yes’ after panicking for ten seconds.

Yves also manages to eliminate Jaeyoon after four minutes of acting out a plumbing scene, leaving her alone with Hwiyoung.

Well fuck.

All you could do is hope that she manages to eliminate him too.

“And your prompt will be...interesting. Friends in the same shopping aisle. Hwiyoung, start it off.”

Unfortunately for you, Hwiyoung has always been good at these games, and you don’t know how he does it.

“Oh, My. God.” He slaps a hand over his mouth as he eyes the imaginary shelves, head snapping over to Yves. “Can you believe we could’ve gotten our matching walrus tattoos for fifty percent off if we bought a bottle of tylenol at Walmart?”

The randomness from his act stuns Yves for seconds beyond end, and just like Vivi, she panics and responds with ‘how the hell do I respond to that?’ whilst looking at Professor Kim. This causes her to get booted off the platform, and your eyes widen when you realize you’re up next.

You turn around instantaneously and try forcing Younghoon in front of you, but he refuses to budge an inch.

“Ah, our infamous onstage couple.” Your professor sighs lovingly, and neither of you attempt to tell him otherwise. You hated how your heart rate picked up at being labeled as a ‘couple’ with Hwiyoung.

You discreetly stomp on Younghoon’s toes when you hear him snicker at your fidgeting, evoking a muffled scream from him.

“Well, let’s see what prompt I have for the two of you.” He looks down at his phone. “Oh! I like this one. You two are trapped in an elevator. Y/N, start it off, and...scene!” he announces.

You push your finger forward repeatedly into the air as if you were poking at a singular button, masking your worried state with a frustrated face.

“The button to open the doors won’t work,” you mumble loud enough for everyone to hear. Giving up, you retract your hand and look heavenwards. “We’re at my floor, but the stupid doors won’t even budge.”

“Here, let me see.”

Hwiyoung leans over your shoulder and squints his eyes. His lips are close enough to your ear, and you could feel his breath on your skin. You’re begging that he doesn’t see the effect he unfortunately remains to have on you, wishing for this scene to end quicker than usual.

“Have you tried pressing the button?”

You being tossed off guard makes everyone in the room laugh, and he shoots you the infamous smile that has your heart running for miles.

“Wow, didn’t really think of that. Thanks, Sherlock,” you say sarcastically with your hands on your hips. “Maybe you should try pressing it.”

You look straight up at him, but he isn’t looking back at you.

Although you two have broken up, the scene somehow manages to last for another minute without either of you failing. The anxiety of standing next to someone you felt butterflies for overtakes your nerves, yet the sight of Hwiyoung acting like everything between you is completely normal makes you ease a bit.

But you have to remind yourself it’s just all an act.

He runs a hand through his hair while his tongue creates an indent in his cheek, foot impatiently tapping against the ground.

“Looks like we’re stuck here then, aren’t we?”

He finally connects his eyes with yours, and you couldn’t help but get lost in them.

“I guess we are,” you whisper.

“And Y/N is out!”

You dart a glare at your professor, but his eyes are trained on Younghoon, waiting for the not-very-composed boy to step forward.

“You really couldn’t have stayed up there longer?” your friend scowls through a hushed tone, huffing as he waves you off. “Can’t believe you’re having me deal with your ex-boyfie.”

You roll your eyes at his words and return to Jungwoo. By the time you sit down, the next scene has already begun.

“Oh no! I said no!” Younghoon exclaims in the driest matter you’ve ever seen. “Looks like I’m out. Gosh darn it!”

The class slowly, but surely, begins to clap for Hwiyoung when Younghoon exits the platform, and only then could you get a better look at your ex. Behind his disingenuous smile lies the expression you recall from two days prior: the eyes that looked at you ever so fiercely and the heart that fell out of love. The slight twitch from his lip proves the urge to frown and curse everyone out, and his hands have probably formed into fists in the pockets of his jeans.

You could tell because you know Hwiyoung well enough. You know he sees behind all the fake praise when he landed the pathetic role of being an understudy for a children’s play.

Still, he takes a bow and accepts Professor Kim’s compliments despite everything the teacher had said earlier, and he’s about to head back to his seat before the door cracks open, freezing all movements.

It makes the entire class go silent, the noise sparking everyone’s presence.

From where you are sitting, you can barely see who was at the door, but you manage to catch a glimpse of the intruder’s raven hair.

“Well you’re certainly a new face,” your professor comments. “And you must be...? Ah wait, don’t tell me. Allow me to guess.”

Although you can’t see who was being covered by the door, you could see Hwiyoung’s expression fall blank on stage after the professor’s exact words.

“You’re our Prince Charming, correct?”

The read through for the script of the play takes place in the drama department’s auditorium with the cast sitting in a circle of chairs on stage. It’s the reason why Juyeon is sitting directly across from you, causing you to do all you can to ignore how he keeps taking glances at you.

Chanhee says the final lines from the script as the narrator, and claps erupt from the cast members. Soon enough, chairs are being shifted around as people go into their respective groups of friends, hence why Chanhee is now sitting right beside you.

“You spent an entire night asking me about Juyeon only to not even look at him throughout the entire read through?” Chanhee questions, cocking a brow.

Younghoon joins you two shortly after, dragging his chair over.

“I feel bad for him,” your friend interjects. When he sits down, he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the said cast member.

Juyeon remains in his own seat with his nose buried in the script, unconsciously tapping the stage with the light movement of his foot. His motions are what make his anxiety evident, and little does your friends know that you have actually been analyzing him the entire time through the corner of your eye. While the script read through was going on, you noticed him fidgeting while going through his lines with stutters and constant clearing of his throat.

You’re certain he got the main male lead because of his looks. How could someone who’s completely new to the drama department manage to snatch Hwiyoung’s role away like it was nothing?

“He sat alone in improv too,” Younghoon adds, snapping you out of your daze.

“Improv? Juyeon is in your improv?” Chanhee’s voice raises as he looks at Younghoon. “Since when did that happen?”

“I’m wondering the exact same thing,” you mumble through gritted teeth. Your fingers flip through the script in an attempt to keep yourself occupied while also quoting your ex-boyfriend. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“She wouldn’t stop staring at him in class,” Younghoon exposes with a snicker hiding behind his tone.

“I don’t blame her,” Chanhee dreamily sighs. “I wouldn’t either.”

Then he stands up.

“Where are you going?” Younghoon asks.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” he nonchalantly answers. His friend slaps his arm, and Chanhee shoots him a look.

“What? Do you want to come?”

Younghoon motions over to you looking at Hwiyoung from afar.

The understudies are all huddled together in the audience area of the auditorium, and Hwiyoung is sitting on top of one of the armrests with everyone’s attention on him. He’s cracking jokes that have everyone clutching onto their stomach, and his bright smile proves contagious when everyone wears the exact same one on their faces.

You miss it.

You miss when he was like that with the cast—with you.

Younghoon gives you a gentle smack of his hand to your head, scowling.

“Snap out of it, Princess. You can’t focus on him when Chanhee is literally approaching your Prince Charming right now.”

“Don’t call him that,” you murmur, soothing the area your friend had hit by rubbing it. “He’s just some stranger.”

“Oh really?” Younghoon tests, making a show out of crossing his arms. “So he’s just some stranger when you keep bringing up how familiar he is? He’s just some stranger that you keep blaming for your breakup? Honestly, Y/N, I’m starting to become inclined to believe that it’s about time you and Hwiyoung have parted. I don’t think you two were that healthy together anyway with how much he complained about you in front of you.”

You raise your hand up to your friend’s face, preventing him from saying anything else.

“Don’t meddle into my business, okay? Just join Chanhee or whatever. Seems like he’s having a great time with Juyeon.”

He stares at you in disbelief before slowly shaking his head. He stands up with his script in hand. “You’re unbelievable.”

You don’t look at him when he walks away, and you hate how Chanhee begins to scream at everyone shortly after.

“Everyone!” Chanhee grabs Juyeon’s hand and makes him stand up, making sure everyone sees the smile that reaches his feline-like eyes. “We’re getting coffee! Anyone want to come?”

An endearing shade of pink falls on Juyeon’s cheeks at the received attention, and the pair falls unprepared at the amount of people rushing towards them as they claimed that they were also thinking of getting coffee. A lot of your close friends, Younghoon included, even mention that they wanted to know Juyeon more, and all you could do is scoff as you remain in your seat. You turn to look away, hating how you aren’t the center of attention anymore, and it causes you to miss the hopeful glance Juyeon sends your way.

“You coming?” Sangyeon asks after approaching you. You already hate him for choosing Juyeon over Hwiyoung, and now finding out that he’ll also be your stage manager makes you want to regurgitate your breakfast all over him. You love him, as a friend, but you can’t forgive him for also making Hwiyoung an understudy.

He visibly eyes your entire figure, and his tone is rid of all malice.

“I think you could use some coffee with how tired you look right now.”

“Haha, very funny Mr. Stage Manager,” you say sarcastically. You stand up from your seat with your script gripped tightly in your hand.

He shrugs. “Your loss then, Ms. Cindy.”

As everyone leaves the auditorium, you’re left with one other person in the room.

“Hwiyoung!” you call out, shoving your script into your miniature backpack. You slip your arms through the straps as you run over to him.

He’s completely thrown off by the call of his name, and when he turns around, he has his drawstring bag slung over his shoulder. He eyes you skeptically, and you try your best to contain yourself.

You hate how you feel like one of those schoolgirls in movies approaching the popular male lead.

“What’s...up?”

“Do you not plan on getting coffee with everyone else?” you ask, sparking a conversation.

He purses his lips. “Not a coffee guy, remember?”

“Right.” You pause as you mentally scold yourself for not knowing simple details about Hwiyoung.

He then raises a brow. “Are you not going?”

“Uhm...no? No, no I’m not, uhm...homework. I have homework.”

He slowly nods in response to your oddly phrased reply.

“I actually have a question!” you insincerely rejoice as you try to get rid of the tense atmosphere. “So, you know, how...uhm, you know-...” You laugh awkwardly, unsure how to approach the situation. “We always, uhm, kind of practiced our lines together, and I mean...well, you’re still technically Prince Charming...right?”

“...Right.”

“So I was just, uhm...kinda wonde-”

“You want to practice lines together?” he interrupts.

“Yes! Yes, exactly that.” You eagerly nod your head.

He chews on the inside of his cheek as he stares into the distance, and you can tell he’s thinking with how his eyebrows bunch up.

“Sure,” he finally answers, causing your face to brighten up. “Meet up at the diner later? 5pm?”

You beam, unable to remove the happiest smile on your face.

“That’d be perfect.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you know it wasn’t this.

Two hours have never felt longer, and all you’ve done throughout the time period was watch your milkshake melt between the palms of your clammy hands. Your gaze no longer falls out the display window and instead has dropped to your lap in humiliation while tears brim your eyes.

You should’ve known. All the signs were right in front of you, but you had blatantly ignored it for your own bliss.

Being stood up has to be the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced.

Defeated, you grab your bag and push past the glass door, leaving your milkshake behind. You aren’t adamant on breaking out into tears until you catch sight of Hwiyoung and his group of friends lounging by an adjacent building. They’re laughing when they see you leave, and one of them even announces the time on their stopwatch, indicating that they were waiting for you. A smirk settles on the lips you once kissed, and his eyes don’t leave you until you’re out of his sight.

Your attempt to mask how you’re feeling shatters instantaneously when you collapse into the first lecture hall you reach once entering the nearest building, and the pain of utter humiliation and realization strangles your heart. The lecture hall you’re in happens to be the one dedicated to your improvisation class, yet you couldn’t even be bothered to turn on the lights as you clung onto the platform to stabilize yourself.

The bag you’ve been clutching on for dear life has fallen out of your grasp, and all you could think about is how embarrassing you are for falling for his enticing aura.

You still love him, you truly do, but you’re now beginning to understand that Hwiyoung never did; not one of his smiles held an ounce of love for you. It was all just an act since the very beginning, and you didn’t realize it until now.

He was playing the main character and used you as practice considering you always happened to be his love interest in plays. He made you fall in love with him, a facade, and you failed to see past it. So now, when he has nothing to practice for, he drops you like you were nothing and never cared to acknowledge you as someone he’s ‘loved’.

The creak of the door silences your strained cries, and you’re convinced that the intruder would be able to hear your nearly working heartbeat. The lights flicker on, and you shield the brightness with your hand. The action leaves you unable to see who interrupted you mid-cry, but it doesn’t matter because all you could think about was getting out of there. You grab your bag and decide to make a run for it, but you don’t make it far when you finally see the figure looking at you.

“I-, uhm...” he stutters.

“You,” you mutter, glaring into his appalled eyes.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I didn’t, uh, think anyone would actually be in here. Then again, I kinda thought- uhm, sorry.” His hand reaches to rub his nape as if to release the tension in his neck while clearing his throat to get rid of the unsteadiness in his voice.

“You,” you repeat, yet this time it’s through a scowl and is much more projected.

“Uhm...are-, uh, is everything alright?” he hesitantly asks.

“Is there something you want?” Your head quirks to the side as you interrogate him, leaving him intimidated with how condescending your words come across.

“Uh, actually, yeah. Do you, perhaps- know where the auditorium is? I-I kinda left my script there, and I can’t really remember which door it is…” His voice trails off into the distance as he weakly pushes out a chuckle.

Your laughter blares throughout the entire lecture hall, and it alarms a very puzzled Juyeon.

“You’re an acting major, and you don’t even know where the auditorium for the drama department is?” The laughs that proceed to escape your lips add more evidence to your malicious intent, and you rest your hands on the dips of your waist with the click of your tongue. “And to even think you got casted into the play.”

Juyeon pushes the door even wider with his forearm, and it gives you a better look at the disbelief worn on his facial features. Though, he continues to try a gentle approach with you considering he understands what you’re currently going through.

“Chanhee told me everything earlier. I-I know about you and Hwiyoung, and I can understand why you’re mad,” he explains. It’s amusing how he’s trying to make ends meet, and you make it known by refusing to comply with a snicker following immediately after.

“Awe. That’s so cute. Do you want me to congratulate you for finally finding out?”

He breaks.

“I auditioned for this play just like...you,” he counters, keeping his arm firmly pressed against the surface of the door. “You shouldn’t belittle me just because that little ex-boyfriend of yours didn’t get a goddamn role.”

“You don’t get to compare yourself to me,” you hiss, purposely lacing your voice with venom as you approach him. Tears from earlier begin to resurface and prick at your eyes, but it all goes unnoticed when your glare burns into his oh-so familiar pupils. “The difference between you and me is that I actually have the talent and experience for a ‘goddamn role’. You? Oh, don’t even get me started.”

Juyeon’s jaw clenches with every passing second, and his knuckles begin to redden with how tight he’s gripping the edge of the door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your scoff comes out more viciously than expected.

“It means your pretty face is the only reason why you got casted.”

You don’t regret a single word that’s left your mouth, but your head hangs along the sag of your shoulders when you’re recklessly tossed back into despair.

“Go back to your little dance crew, Juyeon,” you whisper with a crack piercing your vocal cords, unable to face him anymore. “You don’t belong here.”

You somehow manage to catch one last glimpse of the pain smeared on Juyeon’s facial expression before he shuts the door on you, leaving you alone with your faded vision and choked sobs.

From previous experiences, first rehearsals alway seem to last for hours on end. Regardless, you do your best to keep an open mindset as you go through each and every one of your classes.

You didn’t tell your friends about what happened with Hwiyoung; it isn’t like they need to know anyway. You’re already more than well aware that they’ll reprimand every reasoning you’ll put out, so the entire idea of informing them feels pointless. Not to mention Chanhee will scold you with the same three sentences repeatedly for months straight, and you’re way more than unwilling to listen to him.

This is why you don’t arrive at the auditorium with anyone by your side. You even decide to get there later than usual because you didn’t want to risk bumping into anyone—especially Hwiyoung after what you’ve just dealt with. You hate what he did to you that day, but your heart can’t help but continue to race at the thought of him.

You’re truly head over heels for not him, but his act.

You stand in front of the doors that lead into the room, and you’re scared. You’re scared you’ll be out of place because for one, you’re not in Hwiyoung’s arms.

A sigh exits your mouth as you steady yourself before pushing the doors open. You do it slowly, and it works because you fall unnoticed by everyone around you. You peek inside and hear all the bursts of chatter coming from every nook and cranny of the room. Though, despite this, you only manage to catch two fully audible conversations.

One on stage:

“I can’t believe you chose me for the king. Do I look short and old to you?!” Younghoon whines, script balled up in his fist. He stomps his feet angrily, startling the couple in front of him. “I’m not withering!”

“Should’ve casted you as an extra,” Sangyeon grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck before yelping when his girlfriend, Yiyeon, slaps his shoulder.

And another a few feet away from you:

“It’s unlike Lee Sangyeon to cast someone because of how they look,” an unfamiliar voice mumbles.

“Hey, but can you blame him? Anyone could be swayed by that face,” a second voice says.

“It’s just such a shame, you know? To see how talent can be overlooked by beauty. Poor Hwi.”

Their conversation shifts, and you find your jaw clenched. Although you wholeheartedly agree with what the pair was saying, you can’t help but feel a bit defensive for your co-actor.

But you fight against the small tug at your heart and bite your tongue, pushing the doors even wider and finally entering. All heads turn toward you when they hear the doors shut behind you, and you plaster on a fake smile as you greet those.

But your act gets cut short when Sangyeon exclaims ‘finally!’, rushing down the steps of the stage to reach you. His girlfriend and Younghoon follow, standing behind him as Sangyeon plants himself in front of you.

He grabs your shoulders, and looks at you with a stare that bore into your eyes.

“Have you seen Juyeon?”

You hesitate then shift your gaze to look at Younghoon. His face looks just as curious, and desperate, as Sangyeon’s, and it makes you raise a brow.

Has he not been here?

The entire room is quiet, and Sangyeon snaps you out of your daze by repeating the question. A sense of panic is washed over all of his features while his eyes beg for an answer.

“Please tell me you know where he is,” he cries, shaking you repeatedly. “He was supposed to pick up his script from me a week ago, but he hasn’t contacted me since!” His lip is jutted out, pouting, and you do your best to prevent the dizziness from affecting your response.

Man, you understand that everyone in the auditorium is a drama student, but you’re starting to believe that perhaps Sangyeon takes it a tad bit too seriously.

You open your mouth to speak and Sangyeon stops shaking you instantly, eyes widening to the size of a disney character’s. Yiyeon mirrors his same gaze, and Younghoon looks at you with anticipation, just like everyone else in the room. The attention makes you struggle to find the right words, so you opt for a ‘...I’m sorry, what?’.

“Juyeon, have you seen Juyeon at all this week?”

Your eyes immediately scan the room, in denial that this man isn’t here. You spot everyone, Hwiyoung included, but the figure of the one man you dreaded to see after the ‘incident’.

Well, it’s not like you’re going to complain.

“No, no I haven’t.”

A scoff breaks through the silence, and you fully expect it to be from your ex-boyfriend, but when you trace the sound, it matches the face of your best friend.

Choi Chanhee.

Sangyeon’s loud groan has you turning back to face him, and he drops his hands from your shoulders to bury his face within them. “No one, not one single person in this room, has heard or gotten sight of him. We need to block the entire show today, and we can’t continue on if the main lead doesn’t even have his script. What will I do?!”

As he visibly, and mentally, crumbles in front of everyone, his girlfriend reaches to comfort him before Sangyeon is swooped into another person’s arms.

Hwiyoung.

“Hey, Sang, it’s alright! Don’t worry about Juyeon. You got me, yeah?” He slings an arm over Sangyeon’s shoulder, leading him out of the auditorium. He pulls a door open for the sulking male. “As understudy, I can replace him for the time being.”

You catch his fake yet dazzling smile before the door closes, and you find yourself biting back a scowl.

“I’m, uh, just going to keep everyone sane,” Yiyeon mumbles, leaving you and Younghoon alone.

Then, you and Younghoon lock eyes. You both instantly share the same thought, causing you guys to get into action right after.

As you two run up onto stage, Younghoon grabs a chair while you grab Chanhee’s wrist, pulling him away from a conversation with Kevin.

He protests, but it’s ignored when you go behind the curtains, Younghoon trailing right after. He tosses the chair into the open area, waiting until it skids to a stop before you yank Chanhee onto it. You lean against a wall with crossed arms, watching as Younghoon approaches the suspicious friend of yours.

“You know something, don’t you?” Younghoon asks, standing in front of him.

“What is this? An interrogation?” Chanhee snorts.

“Yes, in fact it is, so I recommend you answer his question,” you bite back. Chanhee rolls his eyes, no longer looking at you.

Your words make you come off as curious when in reality, you couldn’t really care much about Juyeon and his whereabouts.

Yet somehow, someway—something seems to irk you. Seeing how Hwiyoung took advantage of a vulnerable stage manager earlier doesn’t sit right inside you, and Juyeon not even showing up and disassociating with everyone in the cast is out of character. You just know something is off, and you have a feeling it was because of you.

But you refused to believe so.

“Look, I haven’t been able to contact Juyeon either.” His tone is softer, and his voice could easily be overpowered by all the other incessant chatter coming from the other side of the curtain if it wasn’t for the secluded space you three are in. Your friend has his gaze darted elsewhere, clearly avoiding eye contact with either of you.

“You have been his closest buddy ever since he’s joined the cast,” Younghoon reasons.

Chanhee laughs, then turns to look at Younghoon.

“What? Jealous?” He smirks, almost winking, but Younghoon startles him by slamming his hands onto the head of the chair, gripping the ledge whilst trapping Chanhee between his arms.

“Y/N and I have known you long enough,” Younghoon says, sucking in his cheeks. “You don’t act like this unless you’re keeping something from us.”

“And your breath stinks,” Chanhee retorts.

“Okay that’s enough, this clearly isn’t working.” You pick yourself off the wall and approach the two.

“I could get physical if you’d like me to,” Younghoon says, tilting Chanhee’s chin upward with his script.

“Yeah, no,” you mutter, pushing him aside. He frowns but watches you in amusement, interested to see how you’d handle the stubborn boy. You then face Chanhee, craning your head to the side as you analyze how his features become stiff. “Since you won’t tell Younghoon what you know, why don’t you tell me? What the hell are you hiding from Sangyeon?”

Chanhee purses his lips, licks them, then stands. He looks at you with barely any expression on his face.

“...No.”

“No?” Perplexed, you stop him from leaving, keeping him in front of you. “What do you mean by no?”

He laughs. Then, he shakes his head.

“You don’t get to know shit after what you said to Juyeon on the day of rehearsal,” he spills, refusing to look you in the eye. Your eyes grow into the size of bowling balls, freezing as your friend continues to tower over your figure with crossed arms.

“So you know…”

“I was there,” he seethes, snapping his head back your way. “I saw him, chased after him, and caught him talking to you.”

“So you both are hiding shit from me,” Younghoon mumbles, clearly appalled and annoyed with how his best friends chose to handle things.

Chanhee ignores him and steps forward, making you stumble backwards after losing your balance.

“I tried to get to him, Y/N. I called him, I texted him, I even reached out to his roommates. But guess what? Not a single one of them responded to me.”

You part your lips to retaliate, but he cuts you off.

“No, not a single word from you. As much as I love you as my best friend, all you do is spill excuse after excuse,” Chanhee snaps. Every word he spurs has an arrow aimed at your heart, leaving you stunned after each one. “You’re always spewing shit about an innocent person, blaming him for your breakup when he had no control over who got what role. Now, Y/N, it’s my turn to blame you for not only making me lose a friend I recently made, but the three other people that have always stood by my side.”

He stops, looks towards the ground, and snickers.

“So, Princess, instead of interrogating me, why don’t you tell me where he is?”

“Alright that’s enough,” Younghoon states, stepping into the conversation. He pulls Chanhee away from you, allowing you to release the breath you’ve been holding in the entire time.

Chanhee’s chest heaves as he settles his breathing, eyes burning into your skull as you avoid his glare. You feel like the smallest person on earth, especially since you’ve never had your best friend turn his back on you. Younghoon shows no empathy when he sees the fear in your eyes, only shaking his head in disappointment as he holds his other friend close.

They trusted you to play smart, but all you did was hit rock bottom.

You leave from behind the curtain, revealing yourself to the people inside the auditorium. They look at you with worry, and some of them have actually even overheard the conversation you had with your friends, but you push them all away, running to the doors. You don’t want to deal with anyone, and although your mind is spiraling, you could only decipher one of many thoughts.

“Where are you going?”

A voice pulls you back into reality when you’re met face to face with your ex-boyfriend, Sangyeon standing right behind him. He’s smirking, even compressing a snicker, when he sees the look of desperation and urgency in your face. He holds the door open, blocking you from leaving by standing in the middle of the doorway.

You look him up and down, breathing heavily, before snorting. You shove him to the side as if he was nothing, giving him silence as a temporary answer. The corners of his lips drop, and he watches you leave in bewilderment. You only make it a few feet away before turning around, looking at him with the same smile he wore earlier as you slowly walk backwards.

“I’m on a search for a prince.”

NAVIGATION | THE BOYZ MASTERLIST

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hyunsuks-beanie · 2 years

Text

Hyunjin Smut Headcanons

Mellow speaks: 🐱anon asked for this, so here I am! Hope everyone enjoys this one!!

Tagging: @ivyvesisi @sweethyuka

Sex with Hyunjin isn't one to conform to one type, mainly because this man himself has days when he feels like a dom and wants to ram into you, and also days when all he wants is to be used by you, lying on the bed as you find your pleasure in him. Even when he is being a dom, he switches from being a hard one and nailing you into the mattress, to being a soft and lovely one who just wants you to have a good time. Same goes with him being a sub, to be honest. There's times when he's the most whiny person ever, begging for you to ruin him, but there's also days when he's bratty as ever, not listening until you choke him.

Speaking of choking, he totally has a choking kink. And it's a pretty hard one too. It's a two-way street, really, with him enjoying being choked just as much as he enjoys wrapping his hands around your throat. I just know he even has at least a couple of chokers reserved just for when you're the one being a brat, and it includes everything from "Daddy's little kitten" to "Daddy's slut," and from velvet to rhinestones. He lives for cutting off your oxygen, and he needs you to moan, loud and clear, and tell him that you're having a good time.

And moving on to "Daddy," he does seem to have a bit of a nickname kink, but it's not something that he won't be able to do without when having sex with you. He enjoys it, but he usually doesn't need it, unless he wants to teach you a lesson for being "a little bitch," as he likes to call it. When you do end up calling him "Daddy," it's most often while his dick enters you from behind, your wrists pinned to your back while he whispers filthy nothings into your ear. You're going to have to call him "Daddy" until that's the only word you can remember.

Turning him on really is a piece of cake, because he finds himself getting fascinated (and his dick getting hard) by the smallest of things you do. You could just be sitting on his lap, watching a movie, when he starts placing kisses to your neck and demanding a makeout, claiming that it was you who got him all horny because "you wouldn't stop moving." Or he could just be making a sketch of you, fully focused on it, until you let out a yawn, your top riding up as you reach your hand up to cover your mouth. And that's all he needs to be distracted, his mind imagining what you look like beneath those layers of clothing, even though he's seen you only one too many times.

He's typically not one to want the members to hear or walk in on you when you're doing it, mainly because he's more of an introvert and likes keeping what belongs to him, to himself. He isn't keen on having the others hear your moans or see your beautiful body, and that's why he usually prefers to reserve sex for when the two of you are all alone, at the dorm or better yet, at your place. But that doesn't mean he won't tell you to scream his face when he wants them to hear, like on days when you're being a brat on purpose. On other days though, he's daydreaming about moving in with you just so the two of you can have sex without anyone prying.

He totally is the type to want to sketch you while you lie sprawled on the bed, wearing nothing but your lingerie, and sometimes not even that. You often joke about how he's acting "a La Titanic style," but at the same time, you can't deny the fact that having his hands draw the contour of your body while you become his muse is not even the tiniest bit arousing. And it's the same with him, as he ends up losing his focus halfway into the session, his eyes trained on how gorgeous your chest looks, your breasts rising and falling with every breath you take. Sometimes though, he sketches you while you sleep, and he could swear they're the prettiest drawings he's ever made.

He tends to get jealous quite easily, but when he does, it usually doesn't result in him fucking you senseless (unless you've already been getting on his nerves). What he actually needs when he's jealous is just a little reassurance from you, and it's on those days that he finds himself becoming a sub and begging you to be your way with him. He just needs to know he's the only one for you, and while he won't say it, it's pretty obvious that he wants you ride him, your lips catching his in a kiss as your breasts bounce against his hands.

Experimenting is something he's pretty game for, and you can expect him to go along with pretty much anything and everything you suggest. He personally likes to keep things interesting, because he wants to make sure you won't be bored of him any time soon (he insists on doing so even when you insist you're not gonna leave him). I see him as having a bit of a hot wax kink, along with at least a tinge of BDSM kink. He's definitely into bondage, and in the moments when he's begging for you to let him cum, he feels as if he's at least a little masochistic. And that's in addition to his usual choking choking "Daddy" kinks.

I also see him as someone who would harbor a corruption kink, his mind going crazy at the mere thought of him taking your virginity away while you bury your face in his shoulder and moan his name. He can't help but think of you as a pretty little angel, and he wants to be the one to taint you. Of course, that doesn't mean you have to be a virgin before he starts dating you, but if you happen to be one, he won't be complaining as he enters you for the first time.

Aftercare with Hyunjin is going to see him be the most clingy person ever, his lanky limbs completely engulfing your form as he tucks your head under his chin, your face buried in his chest. And expect him to shower you with all the love and compliments he can muster, because he wants to tell you just how much he adores you. He's not going to let go until morning, his grip on you tightening if you so much as try to move.

So overall, sex with Hyunjin will be everything you've ever wanted and more, and there really won't be any stone that he'll let unturned in giving you his all, because in his eyes, you deserve it.

344 notes · View notes

joyfulhopelox · 2 years

Text

re:posal | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (marriage au, est. relationship)

Summary: From the sleeposal to a re:posal. Jungkook doubles down on his promise with unexpected results.

Genre: fluff, romance

Wordcount: 6.3k

Warning: reference to sex (once)

r: pg

A/N: Sequel to sleeposal drabble. I just couldn’t help myself. Thank you for the love sleeposal has gotten, this is my favourite pairing of all times so I had to write a sequel for them. Thank you @notyouroppar for doing this and supporting this madness. This can be read as a standalone but I would advise reading the first part for a bit more background.

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

That being said please enjoy! I would love to hear from you so please leave me a message! 💌

If there was one thing you appreciated about Jungkook, it was his ability to stay consistent about his wants and wishes. You could vividly remember the times he talked about his dream to perform outside of organised events. He worked day and night until he managed to secure gigs in private clubs. He was over the moon about it, and you shared his feelings. He deserved it more than anyone. The sheer talent he had always managed to leave you breathless. Naturally his career kicked off; more and more people were coming to his shows. The increase in public meant an increase in venue size, which in turn meant a change in management.

It was a no-brainer that the more popular he got, the busier he became. The time you two had to spend together turned from days in a row to a few hours in a day. To you, a person who was most of the time buried deep in organising events, it was an understandable fact. To him, a person who was ambitious but also impatient and head over heels with you, it became irksome.

He was grateful for the chance he got, he would never not be. Aware that the industry and career he decided to so avidly pursue was not an easy one, he was incredibly thankful for the attention his music managed to garner. However grateful though, he was mildly anxious about how that may have affected your relationship.

You weren’t aware of his feelings towards this situation, and never once have you been afraid that he would not be there next to you. The man who proposed to you in his sleep, was the man who would think of you from the moment he woke up until – well it turned out he thought of you even in his sleep. Memories of his display of affection made you giddy every time they crossed your mind. How could you ever doubt someone whose love transcended even in his subconscious?

Regardless of your reassurances though, Jungkook became adamant to prove to you that he was indeed in for the long haul. Resourceful as ever, he decided that no matter how much or little time with you he had, he would make sure that you never felt unloved by him. You may wear his ring on your finger, but that was not definite enough. Not for him.

It all started a few months after your impromptu engagement. You both postponed the Paris trip he had planned for the actual proposal until after your marriage – Paris was always a good spot for honeymoons and you were going to make the most of it. As an event organiser, you were well versed in planning a wedding and the steps you needed to take. It wasn’t difficult for you to get your own wedding checklist crossed off whilst you did it for others. Your connections were more than enough for you, and you had a general idea of what you wanted for your own event. What worried you though, was Jungkook’s complete detachment from it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready to help. If you gave him a clear task of helping you call a venue or a bakery he would jump at the opportunity and snatch the phone away from you even before you had a chance to finish your request. However, if you asked him to come up with fresh new ideas, or even asked for his opinion when it came to specific decisions you had to make– as a couple, he would fuss around and try to extract himself as fast as possible.

Unable to take his lack of initiative anymore, you decided to confront him during one of your late night film sessions. As both of you were tired from a full month of working long days and sleeping short nights, you both decided to stay in and enjoy your evening together.

“Who is going to cook?” You moaned from your comfortable position on the couch. Wrapped up in blankets, your eyelids drooped heavily. You were barely coherent but the thought had been plaguing your mind for the whole day.

“Love, I have a meeting with my manager until late tomorrow night, I would cook but that would mean we eat late.” Junkook smiled at you apologetically sitting down onto the edge, hand sliding underneath the blankets patting your bare leg gently. Moaning at the intrusion you shifted your position throwing him a playful glare for daring to intrude in your cosy space.

“It’s ok, I will cook, but-” Propping yourself up on your forearms you beamed at him. “If we get food poisoning I am claiming innocence right now.” You scooted away from him, chuckling as he poked you. “Will you have time this week to meet with the flower vendor?” You inquired, a heavy feeling settling in your stomach as soon as you saw his face fall.

“I don’t know if I can, we have a new song in the making, so most of the time may be spent in the studio.” He sighed, not sounding sorry in the least. With the sleep now gone, you scooted over to allow him to slide beneath the blanket. Starting the film you handed him the popcorn without a word, your mind mulling over whether you should confront him or not.

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, as it wasn’t - not really, you threw it in your conversation during the film. So casually, that he all but sputtered the popcorn out of his mouth.

“Wait, what?” He shifted further away from you, eyes widening in surprise. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it multiple times, as was his habit. His freshly washed face, tired eyes, now wide awake, and mouth wide open made him look so youthful that you tried your best to stop your heart from exploding. Despite his apprehension to have any input in your wedding planning, you still found yourself very much in love with him. The butterflies exploding in your stomach when he placed a gentle kiss on your brow before leaving, or the urge to smile whenever he grabbed your hand and whispered that he loved you in the middle of the night whilst sleep talking - that never waned. It only got stronger after your engagement, and you were more than looking forward to being able to call him your husband.

“I…” You trailed off, suddenly the weight of his eyes on you was too much for you to handle. Feeling insecure and trying to convince yourself that maybe it was indeed your own imagination you tried to play it off as nothing. But one of the things that made you fall in love with Jungkook was how attentive he was. Once you’d said something to him he would fight tooth and nail to get to the bottom of it, and your question this time was no different

“Y/N, love. What do you mean?” He shifted back to his original spot, this time though his whole body engulfing yours as if he was afraid you’d disappear from view in the next second.

“I just…really think you’ve been going along with all I’ve been saying.” You hid your face into his chest hoping he wouldn’t hear it. Unfortunately for you, he not only heard every single word you uttered but he also engraved them into his heart. As painful as they were, they were your words. His heart was a diary of them.

He didn’t say anything, his arms wrapped around you tighter, moulding you to his side as he rested his chin on top of your head.

The smell of him was so familiar, it did an incredible job at calming down your racing heart. And with renewed courage you carried on your voice clearer and louder than it had been before. “I just think… I don’t know, it makes me feel like you don’t care about this as much as I do?” Your fists clenched around the thick material of his top, hoping you hadn’t upset him with your supposition and that he’d answer you this time.

When he heard what you thought, Jungkook stilled. His heart stopped and the air knocked out of his lungs. He felt akin to that one time he fell off the stage and onto his back, almost cracking a few ribs.

“No, Y/N. Why would you say that?” You’d known him for so long that with every misplaced breath, every waver in his voice – you could tell instantly what he was feeling. The strain in his voice told you everything you wanted to know; he was hurt, shocked and most importantly fearful. Hearing all these in two sentences made your heart constrict in your chest. You were afraid that this would happen, and you’d never intended it to go this way.

“Jungkook, look. I am sorry, that is not what I wanted to say, it’s just that.” You lightly pulled away, taking his hands in yours to reassure him you were not going anywhere. “I don’t know, I thought that maybe a wedding is not what you want after all.” Seeing the panic flash in his eyes you took a sharp intake of breath, quick to make things right. “No, no! That is not what I meant. I- gahhh” You pulled your hands away to tangle them in your hair, pulling at it in frustration. Nothing you could say would make things right and you knew it. You carelessly dropped a bomb on him, it would be a wonder if he did intend to marry you after this.

Hands gently grabbed yours pulling them away from your hair. Long slender fingers intertwined with yours and once again. Jungkook’s determination and kind heart blew you away. “Please stop pulling your hair, it’s not good for it.” He whispered, fingers playing with yours, gently tracing patterns on the inside of your palm. “Y/N, I don’t know what made you think I don’t want to marry you. Because I do.” You’ve been avoiding looking at him all this time, but he said the words with such conviction you couldn’t help but glance his way.

The fire and endless love in his eyes made you gasp, your eyes tingling with the first few tears for the night. “Jungkook.” You said your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“I do, and I’ve wanted this for so long. I may not have opinions when it comes to planning.” He squeezed your hand lightly enough to ground you. “But that is because I want you to have the wedding that you want.” Hearing this confession you prepared to disagree with him, but he shushed you gently, his hand pulling yours into his lap effectively bringing you closer.

“I don’t care what type of flowers, colour scheme, if we have food or not, cake,” he scrunched his nose as if what he was about to say next pained him, “heck, I don’t even care what type of music we have.” Your watery laugh filled the living room, lightening up the mood. Because you knew he did care about the music – it was his passion after all.

“All I want,” his hand travelled up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the apple of your cheek softly wiping away the stray tear residing there, “is to know that you’re mine forever, to call you my wife.” Despite the levelled voice, you read the flash of insecurity in his voice and your heart clenched.

You didn’t think you’d be more in love with him, it never seemed like a possibility as your heart was already overflowing with adoration of the man in front of you. But as you both stood there, emotionally vulnerable, eyes locked, hearts beating rapidly with insecurity, you realised that it was impossible to not love him more and more with every passing moment.

“Jungkook.” It took you less than a second to attach yourself to him, his arms wrapping around your waist holding you flush against his own body. You tangled your hands in his hair as you buried your head into his neck.

“Silly,” you prepared to chide him for thinking so irrationally about your level of adoration for him. But as his hand gripped your top tighter, as if bracing himself for what you were about to say, you stopped. “I love you, and nothing will change that, regardless of the cake you say you want, regardless of the colour scheme. Fuck it,” you pulled away slightly eyes bright with laughter, “if you said let’s have an all black scheme,” you pointed to his usual dark coloured attire, “I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but snort at your exaggeration. “You wouldn’t.” He declared and you chuckled at his incredulous tone.

“I wouldn’t actually, no. An Addams Family themed wedding is not my thing, as much as I love you in all black.” You leaned in to press your lips to his in a chaste kiss. “Just like you wouldn’t enjoy a foodless wedding.” You whispered against his lips enjoying his agonised moan at the thought before you pressed your lips to his harder.

Your reassurance was enough to quench his insecurities – at least in your eyes. But you’d forgotten how determined he could be. And with a few more months leading up to your wedding he prepared to cement his proposal.

Following your emotional release the previous night, you should’ve known better than to expect a quiet morning from your fiancé. You weren’t anticipating walking into a refurbished kitchen when you woke up in the early hours of the morning. Ready to make the coffee for the both of you, eyes still hazy with sleep, you stopped dead in your tracks. Awed at the sight you stood in the doorway mouth slightly agape as you took in the array of paper covering every inch of your kitchen. It looked as if someone’ decided to use post-its as wallpaper in an attempt to recreate an edgy interior design.

Hesitantly you reached for the first one that you saw, your mind focused on reading the messages rather than on your usual morning routine. ‘I promise to spend forever loving you so please spend forever as my wife.’ Jungkook’s unmistakable writing, read. One after the other you picked them all up, the more you took in the more your eyes filled with tears until they were slowly dripping down your cheeks in a steady stream. He had written on all of them in his words, lyrics, poems and amusingly, drawings; all of them were him asking you to marry him over and over again.

“Y/N?” Just when you were about to reach the last one, the culprit’s sleepy voice called out from behind you. Not bothering to wipe the tears off your face you grabbed as many notes as you could before you turned around to face him.

“Jungkook, what,” you waved the stash of notes at him, “are you doing?” You knew you sounded less emotional than you were, but with the tremendous effort it took you to keep your tears at bay, you didn’t have the power to sound less demanding.

“Are you– are you crying?” Jungkook paused mid stretch, his eyes widening with surprise. Taking a step forward he reached for one of the notes that fell on the floor before placing it gently back onto the wall. “Are you upset? Did you not like it?” He sounded so hesitant he took the wind out of your sails.

Sniffling you prepared to answer, only to burst into tears once more. You did like it, and you wanted to convey it to him, yet it felt like the tears would not stop anytime soon. So instead of using your words you decided to show him. Not thinking about the repercussions you barrelled into his arms, wrapping yours around his waist and burying your head into him.

“You’re so….” You hiccuped, your emotions playing tag with each other. On one hand you wanted to keep bawling in his arms, on the other hand you wanted to laugh at his ridiculousness. And an even stronger part of you wanted to slap him for being so dramatic.

Jungkook didn’t know what to make of it, his hesitation to hug you was only overpowered by his need to comfort you. “I’m so what baby?” He urged you softly, his hand rubbing up and down your back in circles as if he was cradling a baby. You didn’t say anything for a moment, enjoying his soft scent of fresh laundry and the warmth that radiated off of him. He was your comfort, your lifeline, he was soon to be yours forever.

The thought of it, paired with his grand gesture made your heart overflow with emotion once more and you couldn’t help but let more tears fall, your hands digging into his sides for support. Not once did he complain, the knowledge of you hurting in any way made him want to fight to protect you, regardless of what he would have to go against.

“You’re such a dumbass.” You finally sputtered, the tears slowly subsiding. “You didn’t have to do all this.” Pulling yourself away from him, his arms barely allowing you room to move, you wiped the tears off your face before continuing. “You already proposed to me. There was no need for all of this.” You argued even though he hadn’t said anything.

Jungkook stared at you for a second, his eyes bright, the adoration radiating off of him making your insides melt with love. He didn’t say anything before he grasped your face suddenly, his lips crashing down on you in an ardent kiss. His lips soft and warm, roughly pressed against yours sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. The feeling was enough to make you shiver with need. You moaned softly into the kiss as he pressed himself against you, your frozen form responding instantly to his touch. Your hands gripped at his shoulders to steady yourself as his hand travelled to your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist.

You were both panting when you pulled away, hands still gripping every inch of each other as if you were trying to find grounding in each other. Jungkook sighed leaning his forehead against yours, hand brushing away the hair off your face.

“We don’t have time.” You rasped, still trying to catch your breath.

“No.” He disagreed, disappointment laced with lust clear in his voice.

“We need to get ready for work.” You tried again, your words contradicting your actions, your hands still holding firmly onto him.

“Yes.” He agreed, his thumb rubbing at the sensitive skin behind your ear. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and the desire to let him have you in the kitchen amongst his love confessions pulled at you too strongly. Yet the thought of being late for your meeting with the florist made you let go of him reluctantly.

“Tonight.” You promised, stepping aside to put some distance between you. Your brain was still drunk with his scent, making it hard to think further than that.

“Yes but,” he bit his lip, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Can you please humour me?” He motioned to the crumpled notes on the floor.

Your gaze softened, you realised he was indeed serious in his proposal and not trying to make light of it. Looking at him earnestly you allowed him to grab your hand, your own squeezing in reassurance.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you felt the humour wash away, the love and adoration you had for the handsome man in front of you overpowering anything else. “There is no universe in which I would not marry you. So yes, I do.”

Public proposal? Billboard on the highway- with her face sleeping

Visiting the venue for last minute checks before you gave the go ahead should have been a quick experience. You’d go there, talk to the organiser, the manager would settle on the areas, and you'd be out in a couple of hours.

A couple of hours had passed and all you’d done was spend every minute staring out the window, counting the poles in your head. Jungkook hummed beside you as he patiently waited for the traffic to make a move.

“Why is it this busy on a Thursday?” You couldn’t help but explode, your ass already numb from sitting in one position for so long. You weren’t angry, mildly annoyed would’ve been the better way to describe it. “Also why,” you turned to glance at him briefly before you looked back out the window – you refused to miss anything. “Did I agree to this?” You moaned in fake annoyance as you counted another billboard poster.

“Because I'm that handsome that you couldn’t resist?” You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was sporting a cocky expression. You knew him too well, and he, you. Which is why when he launched the challenge, he knew you’d take it without a second thought.

Counting another billboard you turned to face him fully, your brows furrowed. “Love, I’ve counted 89 billboard posters, how much longer do I have to go?” You complained huffing in displeasure at the thought of having to do this until you reached your destination. You were starting to get dizzy and bored, having counted at least a dozen adverts of the same companies over and over again. If their purpose was to subconsciously make you buy anything, the effect was missing entirely. It felt obnoxious and tiresome and who even wanted to buy a mini house for their pet?

“Until at least 101 love, you said you could do it.” Jungkook teased, his eyes on the road. “Without getting bored or fed up.” He added before you could say anything. “You’re almost there.” It may have been your boredom, or the fact that you knew him too well, but when he said that, there was a slight waver in his voice that didn’t escape you. Pausing, you looked at him strangely. He was not looking at you, but you could see his jaw clenching as if he was grinding his teeth - a habit you’ve noticed he did even in his sleep after a particularly difficult day.

“Are you ok?” You hesitantly asked, aware that as much as you both shared your feelings with each other, Jungkook was the one who least spoke about his hardships. Eyes trained on him you immediately noticed his shoulders tense before he opened his mouth to respond.

“Can you please humour me?” Last time he said that to you, you were presented with an emotional situation which not only weighed on his mind but also made you realise the impact your words had on him. “You don’t have long, you’ve also missed a few, I counted 5 up until now, that brings you to 94.” He said, still refusing to face you.

“Yes but-“ you prepared to contradict him, when the car slowed down to a stop in the middle of the highway. “What are you doing?” Confusedly you glanced at him only to find him pointing at something behind you. You slowly turned your gaze, your eyes not seeing anything but the side of the road and a few empty fields. You were prepared to tell him off for pulling a prank on you, the annoyance slowly simmering in your stomach.

“Higher up, baby.” He instructed, and your eyes automatically followed by catching sight of the billboards presenting one advertisement after another; a car, hotel… that is when you saw it.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you exclaimed, mouth agape. “You didn’t!” Pointing at the billboard that towered over all of the ones around it you glowered at your soon to be dead fiancé. “That’s my face!”

Jungkook looked sheepishly at you before nodding, and you could have throttled him at that moment. Whether it was because your heart would not stop pounding in your chest, the words ‘will you marry me’ flashing before your eyes in bold letters, or because there was a poster big enough to be seen from miles away with your sleeping face on it you didn’t know. Instead you narrowed your eyes at him, schooling your voice into a calm manner.

“What…” your voice cracked, clearing your throat you tried again. “What is my sleeping face doing on a billboard, in the middle of the busiest highway?” You made it sound as if you were asking him about food preferences, your tone levelled and your demeanour calm.

“You are beautiful when you sleep.” He declared, his gaze flitting to the poster, and you swore you saw his eyes glaze over for a second before he turned his attention back to you. “And I wanted everyone to see it. And I wanted everyone to know that somewhere out there there is a fool, in love, asking his girlfriend to marry him.” He ended up grinning widely at you, his eyes crinkling.

You fought the urge to beam at him, if anything Jungkook’s always had a way with words, and right now you didn’t want to show him how much they affected you. “A fool indeed.” You couldn’t help but mutter to yourself. “But I fell in love with this fool, so I guess that makes me just as much of one.” Ignoring his satisfied expression you turned back to the billboard, your brain soaking in the message. You are always beautiful to me, I want to spend forever gazing at your face, will you marry me?

“Why my sleeping face?” You moaned playfully, your hands rubbing your face. “I look awful.” Chuckling to show him you weren’t serious you bit your lip, your eyes glancing at him searching for an answer. He looked so handsome, his face lit up by a boyish grin, his defined nose crinkled, teeth on display. His angular jaw and the moles you knew were littered around his skin made you want to pepper kisses all over him.

“We’re coming back full circle, I proposed first in my sleep, now it’s your turn.” He simply supplied and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“I am not sleeping though.” You pointed to your wide awake self. “And that,” you gestured towards the picture, “cannot give you an answer. It’s a picture!” Mind still reeling with the implications of having your face presented like that to everyone who took that road mortified you.

“Neither can your actual sleeping self.” He shrugged smartly, making you reach out to slap him playfully.

“Stop being a smartass.” You chided, still laughing to yourself. “Or my awake self won’t either.” You decided that two can play at that game.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes playfully at you, challenging you to a staredown, which you took without hesitation. You didn’t know how long it lasted, but you could feel the warmth rising up to your face the more you stared at him. God, you loved this manchild. Despite his outrageous ideas, he made sure to show you how loved and cared for you were. The match only got interrupted when a loud honk sound from behind you made you jolt and rip your eyes away from his. Ignoring his cry of victory joy, you glanced in the rear mirror, eyes widening at the sight of the cars trailing behind you.

“Jungkook…” you warned, prepared to tell him to drive.

“Babe, we are not leaving before you respond to me.” He amusedly pointed, fingers thrumming on the wheel as if he had all the time in the world and not a line of cars honking.

“Jungkook, just drive.” You moaned slightly distressed at the thought that someone may get out of their car and start yelling. The butterflies you felt fluttering in your stomach at the thought of him having done such a gesture were not subsiding, despite your aversion to presenting your face on a poster in the middle of a busy highway. He was proposing once more, and he needed a response.

“Baby, I will once you’re on the road, please just drive.” Your eyes were pleading, hoping he would see some sense in this madness. Shaking his head adamantly he took his hands off the wheel to further cement his standpoint. You glanced once more at the traffic gathered behind you, cars trying to veer by you in order to avoid joining the jam, then sighed in defeat. Jungkook was stubborn, and he would not move even if it meant his car was towed off the highway.

“Fine.” You sighed, ignoring the way his eye lit up with excitement, his grin widened as you leant into him, your voice lowered to a whisper. “I will marry you if…” you trailed off watching his smile falter for a second before you continued. “You stop trying to smother me in your sleep.”

Junkook broke out into laughter, his head thrown back, eyes full of mirth. “Look, stop looking so cute,” he motioned to the billboard, “and I will. Maybe.” He added as a second thought hand on the steering wheel ready to go. “But is that a yes?”

Smirking at him, the knowledge that you were holding up traffic no longer of importance you shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Little–“ he prepared to grab at you and you ducked laughing before a chorus of loud honks broke you out of your little bubble.

“Yes it is, now shut up and drive, Rihanna.”

The week before your actual wedding was spent in a flurry of last minute decisions, replanning the seating arrangements and trying out the few dresses you had on the standby. You barely had time to even think about anything regarding your hen-do, and for the first time you were more than happy your bridesmaids were taking care of it. Checking on Jungkook’s plans with the boys, he reassured you it was all sorted by now and you didn’t question it anymore. Everyone seemed to be ready to go, and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

You didn’t plan both of your parties to happen on the same night, but it seemed like your friends had other ideas. His would be in a club and yours at home. Despite your bridesmaids’ plea to have yours in a club as well you were adamant about a small gathering at home. The prospect of having your hen-do at home surrounded by close friends without running the risk of making a fool out of yourself as you got drunk felt like a godsend.

As the night progressed, you tried your hardest to partake in all the games, the simple ones as well as the raunchy ones. All the while making sure you paced yourself with the amount of alcohol you ingested. With the knowledge of it being your wedding day the following morning, you were expecting the dreaded cold feet. But the knowledge that you would face the man who made you feel happy and loved with every second of the day and say I do in front of your loved ones, didn’t do anything but excite you. Then maybe he’d also stop with the ridiculous proposals, you mused fondly.

The obnoxious sound of the doorbell going made you pause. Looking around you locked eyes with the maid of honour, whose smile spoke of trouble. The bell going off derailed you from interrogating her. You made your way to the door, anxious for what awaited you behind it. You didn’t have time to register the events that happened after you opened the door. A group of men bringing in a box twice the size of you, brushing past you as if it was their home not yours, dropping the suspicious package then leaving without so much of a good night to you or your party; it all happened too quickly for you to process.

“What did you do?!” You asked, voice raised to make yourself heard over the music. When she simply shrugged at you and motioned for you to open the box you rolled your eyes at her. Approaching the offensive object, taking up the majority of the space in your living room, you paused when you heard the music change.

From the latest pop song, the sudden change in track to ‘What a man gotta do’ didn’t surprise you as much as your boyfriend coming out of the box did. Scarcely dressed, belting out the notes of the song blaring from the speakers, you couldn’t help but stare at him, the white pressed shirt he was wearing unbuttoned all the way, his glistening skin in full view as he rolled his body in ways you’ve only witnessed in bed. Watching him perform a Moulin Rouge inspired dance to a Jonas Brothers song, not only made you swallow hard, your mind going in circles about his sudden appearance, but you could also feel the heat rising underneath your skin. A combination of confusion and embarrassment washed over you as he slowly made his way towards your frozen form.

His eyes gleamed with mischief as he grabbed your hand pulling you towards the chair your friends pulled out in the middle of the room. Seated and unable to pry your eyes away from the way his muscles moved beneath the material of the shirt, you fought the urge to pull him towards you. The desire to kiss him senseless made your fingers twitch, forcing you to grip the material of your dress. Your brain felt dazed and confused at the situation you found yourself in and music pounding in your ears wasn’t helping either. If someone else related this experience to you, you would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it. But it was you who was experiencing it, and from Jungkook of all people. The man whose career revolved around singing not dancing. However watching the flawless moves and lack of hesitation told you he either had a hidden talent or he practiced hard for this performance.

You were so concentrated on the performance that you weren’t paying attention to anything else until your bridesmaid yelled at you to listen to the lyrics. Finally registering what was happening around you, you found yourself burst into laughter when the song came to a climax and he flamboyantly skidded across the living room, the sexy performance coming to an end.

Ignoring the hoots and yells from your friends you rushed to him as soon as the last note ended, your eyes fixed on his despite the want to continue to ogle at his toned body, newly marked by tattoos. He even had the audacity to put oil on himself, his skin glistening in the artificial light, a sight you’ve committed to memory.

You wrapped your arms around him, breathing in the strong smell of vanilla and musk as you placed your lips on his in a heated kiss, lips crashing together for a few brief moments before you pulled away.

“There is nothing sexier than my soon to be husband half naked, singing a song for me like that. My own personal butler in a buff.” You purred, pulling him closer by the tie, nails raking over his exposed chest making him shiver. Feeling encouraged by his response and the goosebumps you could see on his smooth skin, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, both your breathing ragged.

“And if there weren’t so many eyes on us, I would ride you right here right now in this awful get up until you came inside me.” Hearing his breath hitch made you smirk, the hand on his chest slowly mapped the planes of his chest towards the hem of his shorts. Jungkook bit his lip to hide his disappointment when it reached his hips and you only pinched his side. “Behave.” You warned, not wanting to give all of your friends an insight in your intimate life.

“So what does a man have to do to have you marry him?” Jungkook grinned, the moment broken by your laughter.

“We’re getting married tomorrow, Jungkook. Isn’t it obvious?” You argued, ignoring the way your heart rate sped up at the thought; you felt warm knowing that he fought all the way until the end of your engagement period to show you how much he wanted to marry you.

“Is that a yes?” Being so close to him, you felt Jungkook gulp his hands hesitantly placed around your waist.

“I don’t know, mister, that is very forward of you; asking the bride on her hen night if she wants to marry you… I would need to ask my full time lover.” You teased playfully, laughing when he bent to pick you up as if you weighed nothing.

“Excuse me, as of tomorrow I think you mean to say your full time husband.”

MAIN MASTERLIST

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts romance #jungkook fluff #jungkook romance #btshoneyhive #castlebangtan #bangtaninn #bangtanarmynet #silverspoon #houseofincantations #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts

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