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intoloopin · 16 days

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A CHAPTER: THE SHARP AND THE BLUNT (PART 2/2).

tws: dubious consent (Haruki is still very weird and forward about initiating sex! and sometimes that gets Toxic). alcohol abuse and alcoholism. semi-smut (the driest, most unsexy and robotic blowjob in the world is given). insinuation and one very direct discussion of sexual trauma, abuse by a past partner, abuse of workplace power and stalking. a little hint of body dysmorphia (Hanjae's inner voice is often not very kind about how he looks). internalized homophobia, and a hint of biphobia in between the lines. queer pessimism (it gets a bit Hurtful). as always: if I missed anything, please tell me. starring: Lee Hanjae. Fukunaga Haruki. featuring: Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. their fellow LOOPiN members (old OT10, no Gyujin, still stuck with a bit of Beomseok). Uhm Junghwa (new manager extraordinarie). the ghost of Choi Sangwon. a brief mention of Night Child / NTCD. timeline: early to the end of mid 2022 | quick flash forward to september 2023 (additional context under the cut). word count: 14,138 words. author's note: lil delay because life has to be life, sometimes, and because the hotel scene from May 26th was way more challenging to get right in tone than i originally expected (it's one of the ones to watch out for), but here we are!!!! the Hanruki end. things get much more heavy, morally grey and blantly sad in this final part, so really, mind the tags, skip if you must. and: music rec moment two. stay safe out there, everyone!

March 13th, 2022.

Hanjae doesn’t shower, or change clothes, or gets to sleep on the couch. He lays on it and spends the whole night awake, on his phone, and on his Nintendo Switch after that, back on his phone. He catches the sun rising through the window’s curtain and maybe he sleeps, briefly.

Was it even real?, he wonders when he finds himself with his eyes wide and restless, staring up at the ceiling; Did it even happen?

He pokes and pokes at the one painful spot over his shoulder, the marking of Haruki’s teeth, and gets consumed by shame at the confirmation that yes, it was real; yes, it did happen.

When Junghwa steps into their apartment to wake everyone up in the morning, Hanjae’s sitting on the couch, breathing into his hands. He still looks like a mess. Hair, clothes, face – a mess.

She gives him a crumbling look, half pity, half exhaustion, and laughs humorless. “Out of everyone, I didn’t expect you to misbehave, Lee Hanjae.”

Hanjae peeks up at her through his clammy fingers. He feels a genuine and terrifying urge to throw up on her shoes and buy her new ones immediately after.

“12 AM to 8 PM for you,” Junghwa tells him, with a sigh. She walks more into the house, close enough to lay a merciful hand on the crown of his head – pat, pat, pat. “Just this one time.”

Haruki hours, he thinks, dazed, because that’s what everyone calls it, because he’s the one stuck with the alternative schedule the most: fails to wake up for practice often, gets shoved at the company until late at night. He’ll probably get the same sentence today. He and Hanjae might have to train alone, together, for hours. His stomach takes another queasy turn.

Hanjae watches the world move around him, for once out of the routine; after hearing his fate, Taesong takes a minute out of washing his face to force Hanjae to gulp down ibuprofen while Haegon shoves a pillow at him. Junghwa goes upstairs to knock on Haruki’s door, phone against her ear as she calls him, and then comes down in record speed, by herself.

She asks everyone, “Shall we go?”

“Can I get Haruki hours, please?” Seungsoo begs from where he’s resting his head against the wall, eyes closed, sipping Gatorade.

Junghwa doesn’t look at him as she firmly says, “No.”

“But I’m dying,” Seungsoo whines. “I’m fucking dying. I can’t work. I’m gonna drop dead, dead.”

Minwoo shoves him angrily out of the way to open the front door, tells him, “Then drop dead, Seungsoo. Drop dead.”

It takes a while for the house to fall back into quiet, after everyone’s gone. Hanjae swears he hears the sound of everything amplified now, gonging inside his head. Maybe it’s the hangover – it’s probably the hangover, but he hasn’t had enough of those to figure all of their symptoms out.

He sleeps again, a miracle, wakes up again, and there’s the faint smell of something being stir fried coming from the kitchen, slowly drowning the whole room.

“I’m making tofu,” Haruki says when Hanjae sits up to check. He’s a slouched thing behind the stove, yet he’s flashing him a grin. “You want some?”

He looks, from a distant inspection – normal, regular, like Haruki always does in the morning: a little wan, with his voice a little deep. They’ve kissed, they’ve made out, and he’s absolutely normal, proposing to make Hanjae breakfast-lunch.

Hanjae says a meek ‘yes’ to tofu, and Haruki tells him, “Five minutes.”

It’s enough time for Hanjae to go brush his teeth, and hyperventilate in privacy: every corner of their bathroom makes him think back to Sunyoung’s, and to being on the floor– being kissed on the floor– being kissed by Haruki on the floor until he wasn’t.

He goes back to the couch, a stiff walk. Haruki comes to sit with him, holding a single bowl of food with two runny eggs on top, and Hanjae jumps back up and three feet away. He bumps his heel bone on the coffee table, and the pain is a shock up his entire leg; serves him well, serves him right.

“I want to apologize for yesterday or earlier today at night,” Hanjae says in a single breath, his voice coming out rough around the edges. His arms are set like wood on his sides, tight, fisted.

In front of him, Haruki’s face goes through a journey: startled, then confused, then amused, smiling. He takes a big bite of food. “Oh, you mean the bathroom? That’s what you mean?” He asks, covering his chewing mouth with a hand, and Hanjae nods once. “Pfff, no need. It’s not your fault a girl had to pee.”

“That’s not what I meant, not, not what I’m apologizing for.”

“So what are you apologizing for?” Haruki asks him, tilting his head, dark hair falling like a cloak over his eyes. He wrinkles his nose. “Didn’t I kiss you? I’m sure I kissed you. I’m sure you kissed me back.”

“Hyung,” Hanjae says, helplessly, and has to turn his face to the side, closing his eyes briefly. “Still, everything– We were drunk, and everything, it wasn’t… appropriate. To happen.”

Haruki has stopped chewing when Hanjae looks back at him, has gone full body still for a moment. When he gulps the food down, it looks like it’s a painful thing for him to do.

“Appropriate,” he repeats, looking down at his own feet, like it’s an odd word, an annoying one. “Just sit down, Hanjae. Sit back down. We’re not done yet.”

“We’re not… What?”

Haruki abandons the bowl and chopsticks, puts them roughly on the table, then motions to the vague spot on his side – come here. Hanjae doesn’t move. He still has some word stuck under his tongue he has to work out.

Haruki doesn’t take his paralyzes at all. He clicks his tongue, walks up and close and puts both hands on Hanjae’s shoulders, maneuvers him and sits him back down not that gently on the couch. He tucks himself close to him, sideways, a bent knee almost on his lap, and stays there.

He eyes Hanjae openly then, a brand new thing. Haruki’s seen him, could have gotten sick of seeing him with how much it happens every day, but now Hanjae knows with certainty that he’s never been evaluated by him, or taken into this much consideration up until this very moment.

He hooks Hanjae’s ear lobe between two fingers and pulls, taps at the hoop earring. “I thought you would be a bad kisser,” Haruki says. “But you’re not.”

Granted, Hanjae wouldn’t call their kiss a good kiss. Both their mouths tasted bitter, he remembers now, and their teeth clunked against each other like two cogs being put in an unfit machine. It happened so quick– everything, so quick.

“Thanks,” he says nonetheless, and again, “Thank– Thank you.”

Haruki laughs at him, wispy, a single ‘ha’, and the air around them grows more tense. Haruki pushes himself close until he's full on Hanjae’s lap, a similar position to some hours ago. Hanjae turns his face a little away, to the side; sets his eyes on a wall, right where a painting Haegon made when he was eight years old hangs, framed.

The cushion of the living room couch smells like an amalgamation of all of them, he notices. There’s a stain on it where Chihoon had once spilled fancy carbonara – a meal everyone saved the whole month to have on their third debut anniversary. Seungsoo had offered him three bucks to lick it clean. The video of Dylan concluding the bet is a blurry 1 minute thing O.z had recorded, still somewhere far down Hanjae’s gallery.

“Hanjae,” Haruki says now, and taps at his nose. “You’re too tense. You’re zooming out. Get out of your head.”

“It’s just–” Hanjae mutters, and can’t stop – just can’t stop: “Here? Wouldn’t it be bad? If someone walks in, if they forgot something and want to come back, and I heard, I think I heard that, isn’t there a camera here, a camera Seo CEO looks through–”

“There’s no camera. Not a single one anywhere. I would know,” Haruki looks right into his eyes to reassure him, or tries to; Hanjae can’t sustain it much. His hands are a constant goosebump on their trail on the back of Hanjae’s neck, up and up and suddenly down, up again. “Do you want to take this to your room?”

But it’s not Hanjae’s room, singular. It’s impossible to look anywhere and not see one of Seungsoo’s too colorful caps, or Minwoo’s notes, scrambled and frantic, the only indication he’s yet to fully move into the studio.

This is LOOPiN’s home, collective. They’re coworkers sharing space at their core, and it’s– It’s all just–

Hanjae makes a whimpering sound, involuntary, not an answer to anything, and with that Haruki’s off him, a sudden rise up and turn around. He walks away with a loud sigh and Hanjae thinks, disappointment and relief an ocean in his stomach, It’s done. It’s over.

It’s not; Haruki just goes to open the fridge’s door, takes something out, pours it somewhere, comes back to the couch with it. He stands it for Hanjae to take – a red plastic cup filled to the brim with some leftover wine.

“One complaint,” Haruki tells him, and goes back to where he was; a stable weight on Hanjae’s lap, both arms hooked around his neck. “One sip.”

“It’s– It’s morning, hyung.”

“No. No ‘hyung’. Stop that,” he says, and Hanjae can’t figure out, either by hearing it or looking him in the face, if Haruki’s being serious or not. He’s still smiling. “I don’t like it.”

“So what,” Hanjae asks, and sinks deeper into the couch when Haruki makes to push himself closer, “Do you like, then? About me if, or this, or–”

It’s all he can get out before Haruki puts a hand over his mouth, firm.

“I’ll blow you,” he says bluntly, and puts his hand away. Another paper thin smile. “Will that shut you up?”

Around a gulp, Hanjae nods, manages to let out a shaky, “Ok–ay.”

Permission granted, it takes a moment for anything to even happen. Haruki grabs the cup out of Hanjae’s hand quickly and downs it, almost fully drains it. He takes a deep and loud breath when he gives it back, eyes closed through it, before he begins to go down on him.

When Haruki kneels in between his legs, Hanjae tries to put a hand on top of his head, a timid and gentle fondling, but Haruki bats it away, says, “Just stay still.”

And Hanjae stays still. He looks up at the ceiling – eggshell white, the same as all the walls, with the faint darkening in a corner where there once was a leak. The kitchen sink hasn’t been closed all the way, and he can hear the drip, drip, drip of the water falling on dirty tableware under the sound of his loose belt being unbuckled, his zipper working open, the downing of his jeans.

What a waste, he thinks, over and over, tells himself that’s all he must think now; what a grandiose waste.

The blowjob’s a not so quick, but fully methodic thing. Hanjae taps Haruki on the shoulder when he’s finally near coming, says so around a pant. And then comes, Haruki swallows, that’s it – that’s the full scope of it, Hanjae has decided. Privately, he calls it efficient instead of emotionless, or confusing, or unsettling.

He zips himself back up as Haruki wipes his mouth and goes to collect the pot, the chopsticks. Hanjae catches him by the wrist before he slips away, asks, “You?”

Haruki laughs – Hanjae’s never seen him laugh so much so quickly, or in such a high pitch. He says, leaning forward, “Me? Me what? What are you even going to do? You look like you’re about to have a panic attack, Hanjae.”

Hanjae’s grip on him goes loose. Haruki breaks free of it and puts his hand on his pocket, rubs it in for a second like he’s trying to get it clean. Or maybe Hanjae’s just seeing things with his blurry hangover vision, his clear hangover discomfort.

“Right,” he mutters, and feels like he’s coming down from somewhere. His hold on the cup had faltered through their whole endeavor, and the spilled wine made a new damp on the couch’s arm. A story. He locks eyes with it.

“Don’t worry about me,” Haruki’s saying, back turned to him, halfway across the room already. The pot of leftover tofu clanks where he drops it, careless. “I’ll just shower.”

“You’re sure…?” Hanjae asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now stop talking, alright? It’s not going to make me put my mouth on you a second time.”

Hanjae blinks once, and then too many times to even count. “Okay,” he says, quietly. “I’m– Okay.”

Haruki flees the scene before he notices, goes upstairs; comes back down and looks around for a long beat as if he’s forgotten where he is, where he’s headed.

He goes to the bathroom and closes the door loudly, then soon opens it again, peeks his torso out. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and a smile that’s blinding when he says, looking back at Hanjae: “But next time. Make it up to me next time.”

April 14th, 2022.

‘Next time’, in industry lingo, as Hanjae has learned over the years, is the vaguest time scheduling there is. So Haruki said ‘But next time. Make it up to me next time’, and a day later LOOPiN released the final teasers for the ‘Punch’ EP, and things got hectic – music shows, variety content, a fanmeet, a fansign.

And then Seungsoo made everything come to a halt by jumping Kwon Dongwook and half of NTCD at Rewind K-Pop Fest on the 8th, getting them all thrown out of the event four hours earlier.

They missed the SHINee tribute they were set to be on. Hanjae even got handed Key’s bandana and the same blue shorts he used in the dance scenes in the ‘View’ MV, taken directly out of SM Entertainment’s archive. He had just stepped out of a makeup chair when he got the news, and was made to sit back down immediately to dismantle the whole look.

“Pussy didn’t even fight back,” Seungsoo grumbled, in their kitchen: icing his face where it hit a pole after Code pushed him off Hyunbin’s neck. He wouldn’t stop talking about Dongwook – it had been five hours, and everything that came out of his mouth was soon followed by ‘Kwon Dongwook that bastard’ this, ‘Kwon Dongwook that fucker’ that. “He made me look like an asshole.”

Hanjae ignored him. All he wanted was to drink a glass of water in silence and not look a single person in the eye that wasn’t Mijoo, his guitar instructor, in six hours time.

“You made yourself look like an asshole,” Taesong corrected him, pointing a spatula around from behind the aisle, and he sounded and looked angry in a way Hanjae hadn’t seen him in years. “You made all of us look like assholes, and now Minwoo’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you because I’ll allow him to kill you. I will help him kill you. You deserve to be assassinated.”

“You deserve to be assassinated, you snake! You’re talking with Joseph Song, Taeng! Night Child’s Joseph Song, behind my back, about him, about me! Fuck you!”

Taesong dropped the spatula, put both hands on his hips, and looked up at the ceiling: his ‘Lord, give me strength’ pose. “I don’t talk with Joseph Song about Dongwook, or about you, Seungsoo. All we do is exchange schedule information to know when we all might meet, to try to keep peace between us and them because you’re all insane. All you, insane.”

“I’m not insane!” Seungsoo said, rising up from his chair, and Hanjae escaped the kitchen then, didn’t want to hear his bullshit claim to be functional.

He spent half an hour tuning and running his fingers over his electric guitar’s strings, and did the same with Dylan’s old acoustic one, and pressed random notes on Zhiming’s keyboard in their improvised music space, which was just a vacant corner in Heagon and Beomseok’s room.

On his phone, he got one message, and had to read it once and twice and a third time even, just to figure out what to say:

[haruhyung]: are you free ?

Hanjae sent, fingers flying over the keyboard:

[You]: Guitar pravtice with Mijoo nim sun

[You]: *practice

[You]: **soon

And shortly after, an afterthought:

[You]: Sorry

On his screen Haruki typed, deleted, typed again – the speech bubble looked like a glitch. Somewhere down on the first floor someone snorted, loud and mean, and Hanjae shuddered.

After five minutes, Haruki sent:

[haruhyung]: ok .

More texts came after those, spaced out between days or just hours, sometimes full sentences or just direct question marks, one time with a photo attached in the morning. Hanjae didn’t see it right away, went back to check during lunch break and found nothing but a short trail of deleted messages.

It’s all the interaction they have behind the scenes lately. No more idle talk in the practice room, no more shared space in the house, just ‘free?’ and ‘no’ and ‘sorry’ and ‘ok.’

Now: a live session for the english version of ‘You Can’t Hold My Heart’ that they managed to film in one single take. Jooheon PD promises to treat them to something for it, and everyone’s saying suggestions on top of suggestions at the speed of light. Hanjae’s trying to gather up courage to ask for hot pot again, preparing for the complaining it’ll cause, when his phone dings.

[haruhyung]: ditch with me .

[haruhyung]: discreetly .

Hanjae takes a wild look across the studio until he finds Haruki: set against a wall in a corner, waiting to be looked at, tapping one foot on the ground. After what feels like a minute of unstable eye contact, but couldn’t be more than a second or so, Haruki ducks his head down and goes back to typing.

[haruhyng]: im really not going to ask again .

It takes little to no excuse to ditch dinner – barbecue, they have decided, and Hanjae’s trying to cut off red meat, doesn’t want to go somewhere so crowded after seeing so many people all day, he says, and Haruki interveins to ask Jooheon if he can pay their cab home. No one asks why he’s not going; no one was expecting Haruki to want to go.

They don’t take the free cab home. They’re instead back at Deh’s apartment complex, taking the stairs quietly.

“I’ll be coming three times a week to feed her cats this month,” Haruki says, unlocking and holding the door open for Hanjae so he can step inside. “She’s traveling out of town.”

“Hm,” is Hanjae’s shaky answer.

The inside of Deh’s apartment looks very much like what he would assume it would: neat, colorful, synthetic fur coats everywhere – really, everywhere.

While Haruki gathers up the cats, two small and loud things, Hanjae sits down on the printed loveseat and makes direct eye contact with a wigged mannequin head next to the TV, plastic lips shiny with lipstick.

When Haruki comes back to the living room, duties all done, he opens the big window on the far left and sits on the cushioned frame, one elegant leg over the other.

He says, with a cig materialized between his teeth somehow, “Deh’s got a lighter on the second drawer– Second drawer, Hanjae– Yeah, that one, the green one. Come here. Bring it over.”

Hanjae brings it over, and Haruki tilts his head up, points to his cigarette, still hanging from his mouth. Hanjae lights it up for him after a couple of clumsy tries, and flees – bolts away with the lighter at the center of his fisted palm, goes to sit back on the couch, grows uncomfortable, slides down to the floor.

Haruki watches him move with an enerved smile on his face. “How funny,” he says, dryly, and then no one says a thing. He smokes, and Hanjae can’t stand the smell, coffs into his hand once. He sees Haruki move even closer to the window, peeking outside.

“So,” Hanjae tries, when it all turns into too much – the smoke, the quiet. He’s tracing a pattern with his finger on the carpet; a circle on top of a circle on top of a circle. “Do you– You come by often? To see her?”

Haruki makes a choking sound. His eyes are very narrow when he looks at Hanjae. “What are you trying to ask?”

Hanjae forces a shrug that he knows falls very flat.

“Deh’s a woman, Hanjae,” Haruki says after a beat, with a strong emphasis on ‘woman’, and Hanjae turns bright red and hot on his face, immediately responds with ‘Yes, I know’ – would rather shoot his own foot than insinuate she’s not. “And I’m not interested in women, so no, I don’t see her.”

“But you– You never told,” Hanjae stammers, and Haruki tilts his head at him, frown easing. “You never told any of us you’re not straight.”

“None of you ever just asked me,” Haruki counters, and there’s a little humor in him, somewhere – a bit of pride at that, maybe, until he recalls, “Except for Zhiming once, but he doesn’t count. Zhiming somehow always knows. Side effects of having a gay mom, I guess.”

“Did you know before? Before your… Your whole relationship, with– was your relationship what made you…” Hanjae stops talking. Haruki’s eyebrows have darted up and they stay up, waiting, challenging; ‘go on, finish the sentence’.

Hanjae sheepishly goes back to the mannequin head. It has a pink rhinestone hot glued on its nose, mimicking a piercing.

“Alright,” Haruki says, giving in. He rearranges himself on the window, puts his two feet steady on the floor, manspreading. “This again– Alright. You get three questions. Just three. Then we’ll never talk about it again, so be wise. If it’s something stupid I won’t answer.”

Hanjae accepts this, tonguing his cheek while he thinks. He has a billion questions, too many, all build up in these two months, but they’ve all escaped him somehow. He settles for an hesitant, “‘This again?’”

“I know you know Chihoon’s aware. And now Jiahang is, too,” Haruki says, and Hanjae patiently waits for more information. A whole minute goes by and Haruki, smoke coming in and out of his mouth, doesn’t offer him anything else.

“Since when?”

“Dylan? L.A. After the beach with you, he caught the… aftermath,” he grims, humorless. “And J.J knows since last week, after the festival. The day you ditched me for guitar practice with Mijoo nim.”

“That’s not,” Hanjae offers, alternating between looking at him and not looking at him; peeking instead at the shape he made on the green carpet, there still. “Not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” Haruki agrees, and his smile turns tiny, tinier, up until it no longer exists.

He takes a big drag of the cigarette, the last one; tosses the bug right out of the window without putting the flame out. Behind him, the world looks pink, green, warm yellow. It’s the sort of spring that makes you feel like it’ll never leave you.

“Look, Hanjae, you don’t want to know everything. Not very pretty, with him being married and a dad and my boss and all. Bottom line is he casted me, he made me into a trainee, and that might have saved my life. I understood the way he looked at me and decided to just– let him have it. So I asked him out, kind of. He said yes, kind of. Next thing I knew, it had been going on for years.”

“Years?” Hanjae lets out, a little scandalized, too blunt, and Haruki gives him a look – ‘last question’. He rushes to amend it with, “Why?”

Haruki, with a hint of afternoon sun contouring his falling face, says, “I don’t know. I don’t know why,” and it’s the one thing Hanjae didn’t want to hear.

He wished for: because he loved me, or because it made me happy. But he knew it wouldn’t be that, felt it like a hollow in his stomach. From that day in the rain, he knew.

“I have a question for you, now. Just one,” Haruki says, turning his face back inside. Hanjae hums, letting him go on. “Are you dragging it out on purpose? Fucking me, I mean. Are you trying to make it some grand thing?”

Hanjae takes a beat to respond because he knows he should. He thinks about it deeply, eyes stuck in a corner, and shakes his head ‘no’. It’s the truth; he’s not trying to turn it into a grand thing – he understands now, with a tang of sadness, that he can’t make any of it special.

“Good,” Haruki says, and nods too. “You shouldn’t. I know marketing wants everyone to think I’m some sex god, but I’m not. I’m really not. You should just get me out of your system already. Quick and nice. It’s not like there’s a point in waiting, or… courting. We’re never going to date, Hanjae. You know that.”

“Yes. I know.”

“So…?” Haruki looks around, to all the space, and Hanjae does too. There’s very little of it, it’s a little room, but still, it looks so lived in. It looks like a place that’s loved.

Hanjae lowers his head down, eyes his small circle, fading. “Would Deh mind?” He asks, a whisper.

“Hanjae, she won’t know. No one will know,” Haruki says, and he’s grown annoyed now, shifty in his seat. “No one cares to know. No one gives that much of a fuck, or– It’s fine. It’s really fine.”

“I just– the thing is–,” Hanjae stutters, and tries to push through even when Haruki makes a discontent noise. “I never planned to do anything about it, or act– really act on liking you. This,” he motions to the drift between them, the awkward air: this, “Is not just me thinking you’re attractive, or– I really respect you, hyung, as my bandmate, as my colleague. If anything, what I always wanted was just for you to trust me with who you are, someday, because I think you’re– I just want us to be closer. Any way goes. That’s what I feel.”

He takes a peek up, over his own bangs, and sees Haruki’s eyes flickering. He widens his stance, knees more apart, and his voice sounds very low when he says, “You can grow real close to me now.”

Hanjae sighs at him, because he can’t help it. He tries to think of words, better words. Tries to build some sort of bridge out of them.

“Is it a good time?” It’s what he asks. “It’s been– It’s been a really long week, and you just… Aren’t you tired? I’m tired. You look like you’re tired.”

Haruki’s face clouds, gets taken over by something very cold. “I am tired. I’m tired of you rejecting me.”

“I’m not. I’m not rejecting you. I just don’t want to feel like I’m making a mistake. I don’t want to make a mistake, and I think, neither do you, right? Again?” Hanjae asks, and immediately regrets it when he catches the effect of the word ‘again’. It makes Haruki close his legs shut, makes his jaw tense. Hanjae says, quicker, “I’ve lost a team one time, hyung, by being impulsive – and it looked like this, it felt just like this.”

The silence that gets in between them is loud, almost sticky. Hanjae fights an inner battle to not fill it up with, ‘Please let’s talk, can you talk to me, really talk to me, just talk to me, and tell me what is it that you actually want.’

In a room away, the cats scratch a door, begging to be let out, and Haruki’s new phone goes off – a familiar ringtone, a lack of surprise or urge to pick up Hanjae’s seen before.

Haruki rests his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. His chest visibly rises and falls when he breathes. “Ah, this is funny,” he says. “So not today, then, but soon? When I look better, not tired, is that it?”

“If you still want to.”

“If I still want to…” Haruki repeats, like he’s testing out the words, like he wants to figure out how they sound all together. And then rising up, out of the window, splinting behind the couch, behind Hanjae, “Okay. Alright, okay. If that’s what it takes– It’s on.”

“It’s… on?”

Over his shoulder, Hanjae catches the hint of a big grin being thrown at him. “It’s on.”

April 29th to May 6th, 2022.

After Deh’s apartment and the sex that didn’t, Haruki turns into someone else for a week.

It’s impossible to not take immediate notice; when Hanjae and Dylan sit down on Friday to play Fifa at night he catches the whole thing, even though he’s not a fan of sports, or video games, or hanging out. Hanjae scores two goals and Haruki cheers him on, in an enthusiasm that makes it seem like he’s winning the real World Cup.

When he excuses himself to use the bathroom, Hanjae and Chihoon share a quick, tense glance.

‘What’s happening?’, Dylan mouths, putting the game on pause, and Hanjae mouths back, ‘I don’t know’, pressing for it to go on.

Later, they order takeout food for everyone, and Haruki doesn’t drink anything with his pizza except for a Sprite Zero. He gathers up everyone’s scattered plates after dinner and takes them to the kitchen, where Hanjae has just begun to do the dishes.

He circles him around the room, then leans on the counter, close, says, “Hanhan, what did you do with my KidSuper jacket? I can’t find it anywhere. Come help me look when you’re done with that. I’m in the laundry room, come help me, don’t forget to help me look, yeah?”

It’s an excuse. There’s no KidSuper jacket that needs to be found in the laundry room. Hanjae goes in, Haruki closes the door shut and immediately kisses him against it, suddenly.

They break apart, and Haruki taps Hanjae’s chin up, making Hanjae’s hang open mouth fall shut. He breathes into his face, mutters, “Cute– You look cute surprised,” and leaves – just leaves, vaporizes in thin air.

Six entire days of this: playing cat and mouse at odd hours, being shoved and kissed by Haruki somewhere, catching no sleep, having anxiety all night, wondering if anyone saw it, if anyone has catched on to this whole… energy.

“You look like a zombie,” Haruki tells him, once – a direct whisper into his ear, with the slightest press of teeth. “Is it because of me? Are you not sleeping well because of me?”

It all comes to a halt on Friday, just as suddenly as it began, because Haruki snaps over something in the afternoon, and he won’t tell anyone what it is.

He locks Dylan out earlier than he’s ever done it, skips dinner, ignores calls; gets fully trashed somewhere between midnight and 4AM, alone. Beomseok had bought fancy imported dry sake for his older brother, a wedding gift he was keeping in the dorms, and the whole thing’s gone, drained.

Beomseok made a big commotion about it, went on to bang on his room door until the entire house was awake at 6 in the morning on a day off, soured everyone’s moods, split them into two: people pissed off at him and people pissed off at Haruki for pissing him off.

It’s tense through the whole day, with no one seeing eye to eye quite right, and when schedule breaks go this south Hanjae knows to expect an empty house after the sun sets.

Soon enough: at 6PM a voice message from Jiahang on their group chat, saying, ‘I’m going clubbing! I’m going clubbing and everyone can come with me! I refuse to not have a nice night tonight, I refuse it!’

Hanjae’s the first one to answer him, off the shower:

[You]: Pass

[jayjayjiji]: 🍅🍅🍅🖕🙄🖕🍅🍅🍅

Hanjae’s midway through sliding his shirt over his head when Haruki barges in without knocking. He stands there, arms up and tangled with the fabric, in his pajama bottoms, short hair wet. Haruki’s a figure that flops on his bed, face and stomach first.

He’s the only one who didn’t get a haircut for ‘Punch’. The hair stylist had run a hand through his hair, moved Haruki’s bangs one side and the other, said, like a joke, “But he’s perfect! He looks perfect already, Junghwa, what do you want me to do?!” It’s a wild thing now, at the back.

“I will sleep with you,” he announces, voice coming off hoarse and loud; drunk again, but mildly.

Hanjae, fully clothed, says, “Seungsoo–”

“Going out. Not a problem. And Minwoo, he is out.”

Hanjae takes small strides to get the burst open door shut. He takes a long peek at the two sides of the corridor: empty.

Behind him, he hears Haruki grumble, “These days, they’ve been so time waste. A waste. Why are you not caring?”

“What do you mean?” Hanjae asks, and comes back near, not too much. He’s still standing up in the crack diving his bed from Minwoo and Seunsgoo’s bunk one.

“I’m trying,” Haruki stresses. “To appeal to you. With my all, to get you to. Start something. You never do. Do something,” he commands at Hanjae, less angry, just agitated. “I am right here, so just– anything.”

Hanjae sits down on the edge of the bed, then. A calculated descent over the sheets.

“But hyung,” He stutters, and Haruki grunts something incomprehensible under his breath. It doesn’t sound like korean, it doesn’t sound like japanese, it doesn’t sound like anything. “Haruki, there’s people at home. No one’s left yet, we don’t know– Don’t know if everyone will.”

“So what? You were all always– So what?”

Hanjae hesitates, worrying his mouth. He takes one of his hands and slowly places it on Haruki’s hair, trying to somewhat pet it, but Haruki isn’t satisfied with that, and turns his face to the side, looks at him with a strong frown. Hanjae puts his hand back where it first laid on his lap, goes back to picking at the hem of his shirt.

And then Haruki reaches out a hand himself, and places it on Hanjae’s exposed knee, squeezes, sinks nails on it. Hanjae pushes himself further back, startled, and the hand follows, leaving a scratch; he almost falls off the bed trying to sneak away from it, and the hand stills, lifeless, not that far away.

“It is like,” Haruki says, and stops for a moment, gulps spit and something else down. “Like when you touch me is all so nothing. Like you do not… You do not really want me. Like you are not trying to make me remember. How can I remember. That you want me. I can not know if you are, just… Not leaving something behind. Like haunting.”

“Haunting?”

Haruki stops moving completely. “I really miss the way, really…” a breath. “The way you looked at me before.”

“And how,” Hanjae prompts, leaning closer, eager to hear it, “How did I look at you before?”

Haruki ignores him. “It is gone,” he laments, and Haruki actively looks like he’s grieving the death of it, whatever it might be. “You have not even fucked me yet, and– gone.”

It’s a quiet, long minute. Hanjae sees Haruki’s eyes go glossy in real time, catches the whole process up until Haruki turns his face away, presses it on the mattress again, hides it.

Haruki pushes his upper body up with his elbows, covers his face with his hands, inhales. Looks at Hanjae again, his eyes peeking through his fingers, dark.

“Ah, you are so nice, Hanjae. Very, very nice, you,” he says, voice still. He stands an arm out, matches every single word with an absent tap on Hanjae’s shoulder. “And all worried, all in your head. It is so annoying. So weird how you–” And he doesn’t say; doesn’t tell Hanjae what’s weird about him.

The hand on his shoulder goes up, scoops his jaw for a tiny moment, then yanks him forward by the back of his neck – Hanjae has to put a knee on the bed frame to not fully stumble. It’s a grip locking him in place, now, as Haruki drags his face near.

“Pick a fucking date. Pick a date,” Haruki tells him, and his voice almost doesn’t sound like his own; is a pure growl. “I am tired. Tired.”

He leaves the same way he came: a door meeting the lock loudly.

Before going to bed, Hanjae selects another shirt to sleep on, a clean one, red like blood in the water.

May 26th, 2022.

“I think I just– Hyung, I think it all comes down to the fact that I don’t understand what you’re asking, because you’re not– you’re not asking. We’re not communicating.”

Haruki’s long pace back and forth in the hotel room comes to a halt. He’s only in underwear under the bath robe he’s got on, black and with an embroidered logo on the chest and back – they both were, up until Hanjae put his shorts back on.

It didn’t take long for Hanjae to pick a date for them to officially have sex: the pre-Camp Camp filming days are the calmest, with the ease of certain success making everyone better to work with, smoothing all the nerves, and a day before they start shooting LOOPiN always have the liberty to do whatever they want. Most staff are too busy setting up cameras around the park, testing the traps, and putting the winning team barracks up to keep them all in check.

Hanjae brought it up to Haruki a couple of days before they traveled to Jeollabuk over their stale text messages, and promptly got an ‘yes’ and nothing further; Haruki kept his distance like a bride on a wedding day over the weeks, barely a blur on the corner of Hanjae’s vision.

So here they are, a day away from being shoved in a park to pretend it’s a jungle. Hanjae walked around with a condom in his short’s pocket since morning and he’s been trying to look forward to it, trying to rationalize the hollow in his stomach as positive anxiety.

By mid afternoon, everyone was leaving the hotel – absolutely everyone. Hanjae couldn’t put a finger on it, but he felt like Haruki had something to do with it. They were sorted into their dorm roommate arrangements by Junghwa, all in the same corridor, both of their rooms at the extreme ends. Hanjae waited for his text to come over Haruki and Dylan’s suite, then made his way in a quiet and dragged on zig-zag – tapped a little song on a vase with a single flower on the hallway table just to bite time.

Dylan was still there when he got in, angrily tying his hiking shoes, and he refused to look at them as he made his way out. He stopped at the door, turned, looked like he was about to say something.

Haruki went to shove him off the room with a tight, “No, Chihoon, I don’t want to hear you, not today, no one wants to hear you, leave, get out.”

Things happened at a weird pace from there. They made out for a long minute, came close to fully undressing then froze awkwardly in the middle of Haruki’s bed, paused it.

“What do you want to do?” Hanjae asked from where he was set on top of him.

“Whatever you want,” Haruki answered, absently tugging at one of Hanjae’s red ears.

So he tried to work with whatever, since he didn’t know what he wanted – he tried to remember some guilty ridden fantasy of his which Haruki had starred in and use that as a guide, but the search came out blank. Hanjae wasn’t getting them anymore, funnily enough, ever since he had been kissed by him a second time.

But no matter what he tried, be it a kiss on the neck or a firm hold on his tight, Haruki barely made a sound, barely seemed to engage and, the most defeating of all, he wouldn’t get hard. It took Hanjae a long moment to notice, too long, and he did so by accident; went to push him by the waist closer but his hand slipped down, and he noticed how limp he felt under his underwear.

That wouldn't do; he asked Haruki again he wanted him to do, what he shouldn’t do, and under the scrutiny Haruki only blurted out dismissively, “Stop, no one fucks to get comfortable, anyway”, and Hanjae’s hand fell from his shoulders.

He said, “What?” and Haruki, “What what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mean by what?” Haruki asked, an uneasy sound, and Hanjae could almost feel him growing cold under him, losing body heat, so he stepped away.

That was a whole hour ago. They’ve been trying to recover, but the mood has gone sour. Hanjae has put his shorts back on a couple minutes after his boner fully died and Haruki seemed to take that as a personal offense, hence the walking.

Hanjae reiterates: “I just can’t know if you like anything if you don’t tell me or… respond. Physically.”

Haruki rubs a hand over his face. He’s annoyed but he’s trying to mask it, says like a tease, “What’s with the language? Did you do research?”

Hanjae sighs. He’s tired of hearing this tone on him. He’s tired of one too many things at once, a Russian doll of exhaustion. A block; the everyday chaos of work, another; the weight of lying to everyone, the effort of keeping it up, and the core one: Haruki not wanting him, pretending to do so, going about it like a chore, like something he must cross off a list.

“What am I doing wrong?” Hanjae asks. “Can you tell me?”

“No, not– You’re not doing things wrong, it just doesn’t happen, okay?” Haruki lets out. “I don’t really get hard, or anything.”

Hanjae processes the phrase word by word. “You mean, you mean never? Or–”

“Not never, just not always. Not a lot.”

“Hyung. Shouldn’t you get that checked?”

“‘Get that checked’,” Haruki parrots, half heartedly, and then quieter, to himself, “I need a fucking drink. ‘Should have sneaked something, should have– Got something.”

Seeing him stuck in place, an unpleased thing, Hanjae can’t help but think back to his snaggletooth days, the pre-rhinoplasty times, that one White Day in seventh grade where his deskmate pity gave him half a chocolate, and wonders if he’s lying, if he’s making something up to make him feel better, if he noticed that Hanjae’s not feeling great, nowhere close to nice.

He’s been hiding his right hand under the cover, trying to not let Haruki hold it, not that he’s tried to do that yet, nor does it seem like he’ll want to.

“We can just not do anything,” Hanjae reminds him. It’s his fourth time saying it, and it gets the exact same reaction out of Haruki each time: an annoyed huff, a roll of eyes. “Not have sex, if it’s not what you want. If I’m not– Not attractive to you.”

“You are, you are. Very attractive,” Haruki says. “Happy?”

“And if I am,” Hanjae prompts. “It’s okay, right? You think it’s okay?”

Haruki’s mouth hangs semi open, his eyes semi shut, when he shoots him a look. “What? I– What?” It’s almost a hiss.

“Can you just tell me why?” Hanjae presses. It’s the right wrong question; it sends Haruki back to pacing, his back turned to him. “Why do you want us to have sex?”

“You want this to happen,” Haruki tells him. “You always wanted it to happen, everyone knows, you made this happen, with all– everything.”

“And you want it too?”

“That’s such a stupid question! Am I not here? Didn’t I tell you to be here?”

“You’re not just,” Hanjae takes in air, sharp through his teeth. “Looking and understanding and– letting me have it, like–”

He can’t fully say it, Haruki doesn’t allow him, shuts it down with a sharp, “Are you my therapist? You’re my therapist now? Fuck off, shut up, be quiet for just a fucking a minute, will you?”

Hanjae withers. From a place inside him, he recalls, he had hoped. He had cultivated hope the size of a grain of sand that maybe, just maybe, the hesitation ment care – that perhaps Haruki liked him, and didn’t know what to do about it, how to go about it. A nice piece of fiction to cling to. But no. It’s clear now: no.

“I really don’t want to pressure you,” Hanjae says, and tries to make his voice louder as the phrase goes on, less miserable, but fails at it.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Hanjae, I understand korean, I understand what you’re saying, I’m not fucking stupid–”

“I didn’t say– I didn’t say you are,” Hanjae tries to reason, but all the sound gets drowned out; there’s only Haruki talking quickly, loudly.

“–So you can stop repeating all these good phrases now, these made up phrases. No one speaks like that. In the real world, no one says that–”

“I mean it.”

“–You’re not pressuring me, Hanjae, trust me, you can’t do that, no one– There’s no pressure, or urgency, or anything. I don’t feel any of that coming from you, so,” Haruki flashes him a smile, thin, ironic, sharp. It looks like something that would be carved out with a pocket knife somewhere.

“Then why,” Hanjae breaths. “Why don’t we end this here? Can we end this here?”

“Again?” Haruki asks, with a laugh. It’s a mean sounding one. “Are you serious?”

“No,” Hanjae says, and swallows. “All of it.”

He almost regrets saying it, given how hard Haruki’s face crumbles. It takes a full minute for him to recover, and Hanjae watches him try to piece an expression back together until he can no longer look.

“Bullshit,” he hears Haruki say, and then again, “Bullshit. C’mon, just. Give me a minute, alright?”

He moves very close, very soon, back on the bed. Their knees are touching again, and they both feel icy.

Haruki says, “I can do better, I promise,” and there’s a hint of a plea there. Hanjae hates to catch it.

“Haruki, it’s okay. It’s okay–”

“No, just, if you just,” His hands hover over Hanjae’s chest, unfocused, trying to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “I can do this, I can, really, if you just try to be more horrible, if you– if you force me, then–” and Haruki shuts his mouth very tight, looks down at the tangle of sheets between them, about to fall off the mattress.

Hanjae at him once and again, forces his eyes to stay open even though. He takes hold of both of Haruki’s wrists feather light, puts them away from him, pushes them to be on Haruki’s own chest. They fall limply on his sides once he lets go.

“Haruki,” Hanjae begins to say, and then stops, has no idea how to proceed. He puts his hands on his forehead, digging. He presses the heel of them over his eyes, hard. “I’m not… I’m not going to do that to you. I don’t want to do that, so can we not? Please? Can we not?”

He takes his hands off his face to try to look him in the eyes, to tell him with them to: I’m not doing that.

Haruki stags up, seems to tense from the heel off his feet to the top of his head. “This is so– awful, awful. What is it, your face is– It looks so–”

Hanjae takes notice of his frown, his quirked down mouth, his eyes – watery, blinking. It’s a sad face, an about-to-burst-into-tears face.

“I can’t stand this, I’m not– Not going to stand here, and be looked at like–” Haruki swallows dry, goes back into motion; picks his shirt back up from the floor, puts it on in a hurry. “I’m going to the pool. I’ll be in the pool, away from you. The whole trip, away from you.”

He stops abruptly at the door, a shaky hand on the handle. Haruki says without looking back at him, exasperated, “You’re gonna let me walk out? I’m leaving, I’m walking out.”

Hanjae says nothing, and experiences what might be the heaviest silence of his life. He feels it from within, taking the form of a bone crushing pressure.

Haruki is even quiet when he leaves, making the door fall shut with almost no sound; a complete dissonance.

June 2nd and 3rd, 2022.

Hanjae lays down, once he’s alone. He spends the rest of the day checking the door, checking his phone – a wild expectation followed by nothing, nothing, except for a tense engulfment of sleep.

Summer comes and Hanjae sees more rain clouds then he sees of just Haruki. It’s voluntary and it isn’t; they’re both avoiding each other.

But promotions are not done, yet, so it’s not as intense as it could be. Just yesterday they got sorted out to film a Heart To Heart episode, and had to scrap it midway because it was heavy, horrible, quiet. Their prompt was: Beach, and they couldn’t hold even a one minute conversation about it.

He got an email from Seo CEO in the morning: ‘Let’s all keep a serene work environment free of misunderstandings and intrigue’, he wrote, underlined and in bold.

Hanjae presses the cold bottle of energy drink against his face, the back of his neck – pure sweat after filming another music show performance. He’s by the vending machine, catching some air, seeing Idols come and go, staff hushing from one side to the other. Some of them bow their heads at him, and Hanjae greets them back with an enthusiasm he knows falls short.

There’s a small commotion in front of their dressing room when he gets there, and he could spot it from a distance. A girl group or at very least a group of around twelve girls, Beomseok and Seungsoo supporting their exposed arms on the doorframe when they talk to them, smiles warm and easy, so he knows exactly what it's all about.

Haruki’s the odd one out, in the middle of them, the center of all attention. He’s always been popular in the hallways, no stranger to little pieces of paper sneaked into his cafeteria orders, someone coming up to him and asking if they can take a selfie, if he’s got a minute – he’s known for dismissing all requests politely.

Hanjae tries to walk by them meekly, without touching anyone, just muttering polite ‘Excuse me’s until he’s allowed through; he isn’t allowed through. Haruki’s got one warm over his shoulder before he can get even a foot inside, before he can even process how, locking him in a clumsy armlock, turning him around, pushing him close.

“And what about him?” He asks the girls, and he’s close enough to press his cheek against Hanjae’s; they’re the exact same height, and their bones fall perfectly aligned. Someone laughs about it, someone woos. “What do we think of him?”

A girl, the closest to them, wearing the sparkliest makeup Hanjae’s ever seen says, joking, “Oh, him? Hmmmmmm, let’s see…”

At his back, Hanjae feels a lingering over and soon can hear Dylan say, a sharp whisper, “Haruki, stop that. Stop.”

Haruki ignores him. His hold on Hanjae’s neck gets tighter, turns into an one armed hug. “Hanjae’s very very shy, but he’s also very very nice. A proper gentleman.”

“Really?” Another girl asks – long curled hair, jet black, dimples showing. “I thought all gentlemen had gone extinct.”

“Noona, so did I! But not Hanjae. He’s proper old school.”

“If that’s true, then he’s cute,” she says, and comes boldly forward to pinch Hanjae’s cheek. Haruki watches her do so with an enthusiastic nod of approval, and Hanjae can feel his sharp sideways grin form in real time. “It makes him the cutest out of all of you.”

“It’s all true, trust me, trust me. He is the cutest out of all of us, yes. Can you believe he’s single? I think it’s so sad, how single he is, how alone he is all the time, always too lonely. We should solve that, no?”

The girl smiles back at him – amused, having fun, flirting with Hanjae, with Haruki, with the two of them at once in front of everyone when she says, “We really should.”

Around them, everyone’s gone into a frenzy over the situation. Seungsoo is slapping Haruki on his free shoulder, screeching ‘You’re so crazy today, Haruki, what’s gotten into you, you crazy man!’, and Hanjae can’t tell if he’s breathing. Then he can feel his lungs moving and nothing else. There’s a small turmoil under them, right where his heart should be, an agitation – fight or flight, and he fails both. He freezes, throat tight and dry.

And then: the enerved click of Junghwa’s heeled shoes, her voice loud when she says, exasperated, “No, no no no, out, out, out! All of you girls out of here right now, what is this?! Where are your managers?!”

The girls scatter in a hurry, all waving goodbye and giggling. Seungsoo puts his hand on his heart and makes a show out of sighing, looking sad, makes a couple of them laugh louder.

Door shut, Junghwa slaps him and Beomseok naked arms with her papers, half joking, half actually slapping them. “I leave for five minutes! Five minutes! What is wrong with you men!”

“We were filming Tiktoks! Innocent little Tiktoks!” Seungsoo says, but he’s laughing, proudly taking his beating. Beomseok simply steps out of her reach, shrugging.

Junghwa stags when she’s in front of Haruki, papers down. She looks for a long moment at his face, searching for something and Hanjae knows what it is: a sign of winter coming earlier.

She’s gentle with him in a different, more impersonal way. He’s the only one out of all of them Junghwa doesn’t call by the first name; she doesn’t use ‘kid’ or ‘boy’ or ‘son’ either.

‘Fukunaga-ssi’ is what she says now, asking if they can have a word in private, and Haruki complies, follows her out, mute.

Hanjae slides his earphones in and tries to not watch them – doesn’t want to look him in the eyes, and thinks he means it forever, feels like it’s a vow being made.

Everyone’s getting more or less undressed by the time he looks up again, falling back into their usual clothes, and the small glimpses of everyone’s torsos at the corner of his eyes are depressing, being back an old discomfort. He sinks into his seat, blinks something off his eyes, looks at the floor. Counts to ten, scratches at his marked hand.

Jiahang comes to sit by his side, gingerly tapping his face with a makeup wipe, a question on his frowned brow, a deep concern. He’s wearing one of Minwoo’s ancient black hoodies, the one with the falling apart NASA logo that fits him too short at the arms.

Hanjae has no idea why his mouth tastes so sour, seeing it; why the next breath he takes through his nose is so sharp.

Junghwa and Haruki come back soon enough, and he and Hanjae are the only ones left to change. She hurries everyone else out, says, “Boys, grab your things– and make sure you have all your things, please– Yes, Kim Haegon, I am talking directly to you, kiddo.”

In a blink there’s only a fan in a corner, making noise, and Haruki in pristine white performance clothes in front of Hanjae, wearing an overshirt with a cascade of thin chains on the back.

“We’re alone,” he says, suddenly, while staring at the floor. “If you want to you can–”

Hanjae stands quickly up, puts a wall and a door between them, turns the lock shut in the small bathroom attached to the room. He’s only sharing space with a shitter and a sink, a little mirror, and he doesn’t want to see even an inch of himself in it.

When he steps out, jeans and an white shirt, Haruki’s gone. His stage jacket lies abandoned on the floor, a tear on the shoulder, a loose chain on the opposite side of the room.

Hanjae staggers at the door, and sees himself walking back to pick it up without thinking. He’s very cautious when he folds it, very gentle when he tucks it under one arm.

[...]

On the ride home Hanjae lingers on the backseat, blearing some song loud enough to not think – pure instrumental, a booming bass.

When they stop in front of the dorm, he stays planted where he is; unties his seatbelt and then thinks better of it, clicks it back shut.

“I’ll go to the company,” he tells no one, just says it out loud, and no one bothers to object. He rides with Junghwa to the New Wave building, even quieter, almost one with the silence.

He doesn’t give her a chance to speak to him when they park, just hops off and goes straight through the reception to practice room #A2, the one with a bunch of old instruments tucked into the lockers, mostly hand-me-downs, some of them broke beyond repair.

He’s aiming for the one drum kit that’s probably around the same age Hanjae is, nothing fancy: it was some staff's son's, someone else’s teenage dream, and he said Hanjae could have it – it’s what his kid would want. It has million pieces of old stickers glued on it and Hanjae never felt like fully peeling them out.

His mind gets lost in the long choreography of setting it up piece by piece. When he finally sits behind the seat, his hands move on their own, just making noise.

And then he finds his way into a rock song through muscle memory. By the end of it, Haruki is a long silhouette in the corner of his eyes, dressed from head to toe in funeral black, and Hanjae almost loses the hold he has on his sticks.

Hanjae’s sweatier than before, breathing slightly through his mouth, still upset with him.

Haruki has a very firm walk when he comes deeper into the room. He stands a paper out in front of Hanjae, his face turned away.

“Phone number,” he explains, waving it even closer to Hanjae like a treat, a gift. “From the girl, earlier. The one that liked you.”

Hanjae lowers his drumsticks as he stares at it, letting his hands fall to his tights. He has no idea what his face is doing, but he knows that if he says I don’t want it, that won’t be all that he’ll say. He might cry; he might fail himself and cry from exhaustion, maybe. Probably something worse, uglier.

“It’s better if you start seeing someone, now. Really seeing someone. This whole thing, it’s so much bullshit. It’s bullshit, Hanjae, it’s like you said. So let’s end this here, like you asked,” Haruki says, and when Hanjae doesn’t move to take up his offer he shoves it in his pocket, walks away, goes to one of the side bars. He puts an extended leg there, a perfect stretch, as he keeps up, carrying an echo: “We’re not compatible, anyway. There was never anything really happening.”

Hanjae’s acting before he knows it. He puts the sticks on their case, tries to get the zipper shut with a hard push that doesn’t do anything. He tries again, harder, and the dent gets stuck on fabric, almost breaks.

“So don’t get sad, Hanhan,” Haruki concludes, turning around, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and his posture is perfect, fully straightened out – a wall again. “It’ll make me upset.”

Hanjae looks at him, as straight in the eyes as he can from a distance – keeps looking even when Haruki dips his chin down, offering only the top of his head.

“It was fun for a day, right? You had one fun day, got your dick sucked,” he says, and he sounds like he’s smiling, like he’s trying to make it sound light, to paint it as something funny. Trying to be intimate, a bit they did. “I don’t mind that we never really– It’s not important to me. I didn’t even want to have sex with you, so– who cares?”

Hanjae closes his eyes tight shut, tries to take a steading inhale. He hears Haruki say, as if from underwater, “But I did want to like you. That week, with all the kissing, all that– I tried to like you. ‘Just didn’t work. Didn’t work.”

“You tried,” Hanjae says, a breath. “You tried to like me.”

From the opposite corner of the room, Haruki puts his face back into view, and the smile he has grows more forced, more visibly sad. It reminds Hanjae of a chalk line drawn on a black board, crooked.

“I told you.”

“What? What did you tell me?”

“Hanjae,” Haruki warns him. “Let’s not make it awkward. I understand you had your ideas, all these expectations–”

“I didn’t. I didn’t have any expectations I didn’t tell you. Everything– I told you. I tried to be honest. At Deh noona’s. That was really all I had to say.”

“Sure,” Haruki says, with a tiny laugh, the hint of a sneer.

‘Sure’. Hanjae’s up from the seat, can’t no longer sit down, can’t barely stand being here.

Haruki keeps eying him like he’s expecting Hanjae to walk straight out of the door, and grows startled when he doesn’t, when he walks near him instead, at half an arm’s distance.

“Why do you think I didn’t mean it? That I was lying?” Hanjae asks the shrunken figure of him. “What sort of person do you think I am? What sort of person do you think being interested in you makes me?”

He’s close enough to see how tightly Haruki’s jaw sets when he looks away, at a nothing point on the far left. His hair falls on his eyes, a curtain. “What sort of question–”

“Every time,” Hanjae speaks over him, and it hurts to do so, because Haruki reacts badly to it, flinching. But someone has to say it; he has to say it, he can’t keep on not saying it. “Every time I wanted to talk to you, hyung, just talk to you, to make sure you were enjoying anything in any way, you looked at me like I disgusted you, like you hated me. Do you hate me? Why? What’s so wrong about all the things, all the things I've done? What’s not correct? I tried being close, and it didn't work. I tried to give you space, and it didn’t work. I still don’t understand, so can you tell me? Can you make it clear to me now?”

Hanjae’s out of air, when he closes his mouth shut. The whole room – sucked out of air.

Very quietly, Haruki says, “I asked for one thing, one thing, and you didn’t do the one thing–”

“You just said– You said you didn’t want to have sex with me. Then why? Why ask? Just because you could? You just asked because you could?”

“Stop,” Haruki tells him, voice rigid. His arms have unfolded and are now holding on to the side bar with all they have. “Stop with the whole why, why, why, just drop it. I’m not saying. Not saying.”

“You can say. I want to listen. I want the answer,” Hanjae says. “I still– I want to be your friend, now. I want you well. To think you’re not– To think you’re hurting, it’s painful. It’s painful.”

“Oh, you’re in pain– You’re in pain, you,” Haruki spits, and laughs, and sniffs, all at once. “Give me a fucking break! Go care about people that care about you, Hanjae, this is so pathetic, everything you always say is– Quit wasting your time with all of this, when you can get a nice girl, someone nice like you and have a nice, normal thing that’s not– Not this. You can choose to not have this, so I don’t understand, I don’t understand why– And you, you won’t understand why, so fuck off, just fuck off! That’s what I want, what I always wanted! For you to fuck off.”

It’s said like an ultimatum, and it sounds harsh enough for Hanjae to feel it more on his chest than on his ears. He tries to take another look at his face, to match the tone to an expression, but can’t – Haruki won’t let him, and Hanaje won’t insist. It’s not his place to insist, and it’s been made clear now.

He leaves him alone, carrying himself very tightly out the door, out the corridor, out the entryway.

Out on the outside world, it’s already close to being night, and Hanjae takes in the stale air, looking up. He sits on the New Wave front steps despite himself, and the concrete’s warmth is a faint discomfort about to leave him.

The drum was still set there, in the room. Hanjae had wanted it, and promised to care for it, and still: left it there. He’ll have to go back for it, be back and fix it, put it back in place.

He should clean it first, and the floor, maybe the mirrors – not all, just some of them, the ones that look worse. Everything that looks bad, everything not quite right.

When he walks back into the practice room, there’s no sound, no lights on, and Haruki is no longer anywhere to be found.

The drum set is back on the case, compact inside the locker, exactly where it should be, exactly what it should be – as if it had never been touched at all.

[…]

Food tastes bland during dinner, and Hanjae doesn’t have it in him to pretend to have an appetite for Taesong’s sake.

He's been testing out recipes lately. He wants to impress his mother in law because he knows he wants to marry Yunhee, now. Not even two years together and he knows he wants to be with her forever, is sure that it’s mutual, it’s certain they’re in love.

He wants to show it to everyone; he gets to show it to everyone.

“Are you okay, Hanjae?” Taesong asks, over and over again – at the dinner table, on the couch during a drama commercial break, while they’re sharing space in front of the bathroom sink, brushing their teeth.

And each time Hanjae answers “Yes”, a tight “Yes”, and none of them sounds convincing enough, not even one of them he can get right.

Later, in his room: Seungsoo out, Minwoo out, and Hanjae all alone. Typical. Routine. Things as they’ve always been; as they’ve never stopped being, not even once. Haruki’s voice rings on his head when he lays it on the pillow: so alone, all the time, so sad, all lonely.

He checks the time on his phone: 8:03PM. Too early. Hanjae drops it, closes his eyes for a long time, checks it again: 8:16PM, and the pop up notification of receiving two messages from Dylan six minutes ago.

[dylari]: r things w/ haruki done?

[dylari]: plz answer quick

[You]: What do you mean?

[dylari]: idk how else to read this

Chihoon sends him a cropped screenshot showing a single lengthy Kakao message. ‘i don t know whyy is so hard’, the first line reads, ‘f or anyone ti just on ce do what i avsk and n ot sometind ellse like hsnaje he is sp–’

Hanjae stops reading it. He enters his phone’s gallery and deletes it, goes back to the chat and Dylan’s text now shows up as a blurry gray square, only says ‘media not found’.

[You]: Did he send you this?

[dylari]: yeah

[dylari]: our chat is his diary ig

[dylari]: when talking irl gets hard he blows my phone

[dylari]: i thought you knew

[You]: I didnt know

[You]: Sorry to hear you have to deal with that

There’s a long pause from Dylan’s side. When he resumes typing, Hanjae has long deleted both messages, regretted them – is sitting up on the bed with a hand on his face, a hard press, and regretting that too.

[dylari]: dude i dont mind knowing

[dylari]: look dont worry hanjae this is fine

[dylari]: im his roomie im on it i can take care of this

[dylari]: ill keep an eye on him now

[dylari]: im sure you tried your best your own way so thank you

[dylari]: telling you that now because he wont say it even if he wants to say it he wont so let me do that for you

[dylari]: good job

[dylari]: go breath

Hanjae falls asleep with his phone held tight, tight to his chest: 11:49 PM. He dreams of it ringing, ringing, ringing, and not being surprised, just being afraid.

[...]

It’s way past 1AM when Hanjae’s mattress sinks to the weight of Haruki sitting at the far end corner, some few inches away from his feet.

He had heard him unlock the door and come in, Seungsoo with him, making the most amount of noise – slurring more than singing some old pop ballad.

Minwoo had jumped awake out of bed, angry; threw a pillow at them, and then a shoe, told them both to fuck off, and disappeared.

Seungsoo began snoring as soon as his body hit the bed, loudly, which only happens when he’s exhausted; they must have danced all night, must have club hopped all night, trying to be too shifty to get caught.

Haruki stayed for a long moment in the middle of the room after tucking him in, silent. And then he sat there, in Hanjae’s bed, not moving, not breathing, Hanjae even thought, until he took a long inhale through his nose just now.

Hanjae won’t look; he can’t look at him. He promised he wouldn’t.

“I’m gonna leave you alone, now,” Haruki tells him – tells him directly, because Hanjae can almost make out the shape of his stare on his back, right at the shoulder. He bit very close to there once and meant nothing by it, thought nothing of it. “You’ll never have to talk to me when we are away from a camera, Hanjae. I promise. You’re gonna look around and I’m not gonna be there. Not an inch of me. I’m not gonna be there.”

He sounds so clear when he says it – slow, but still sober in a way Hanjae doesn’t hear from him much. He keeps on looking ahead into the dark, a hand gripping this pillow; his eyes won’t close.

Haruki swallows, resumes: “The thing is, you’re too nice, Hanjae, so, so nice, you’ve been so nice, so it’s not– It’s not you, it’s not. It’s me. I can’t– I can’t have that. Doesn’t work. I know it, for a long time. So with you, I was just… Lying. To you, not to me. I know that’s wrong, and I know what’s wrong and I just, still– I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Hanjae, I’m sorry, I shouldn't have– I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’ll stop, I promise, I’ll stop. I’ll stop everything, everything, so don’t cry, alright? Why are you crying? Don’t do that– Over me? Don’t do that. I’m sorry. Don’t cry, Hanjae, don’t cry, please, I’m sorry, I’m very sorry, I– I didn’t want to make you cry. I didn’t want–”

September 26th, 2023.

He can see Haruki clearly now, the stark shape of him. He’s still wearing the outfit intended for the airport – a sleeveless designer shirt, blue overcoat, and a wine purple trouser with an abstract David Bowie painted on the right leg.

Hanjae observes him from a small distance, catching his breath. He had run there, trying the piece the way back together from memory, growing a little desperate everytime he turned left and it wasn’t the right left; every time he saw an abandoned lot and it wasn’t the right lot.

But he was the one to find him in the end, sitting right on the floor, tense but not so small. He has a moment now to think of the right thing to say.

Hanjae wants to go with the essential: your sister’s at home, she’s looking for you, she wants to know you’re well. As does everyone; as does everything.

He opens his mouth: can’t make it. Opens his mouth again and takes another breath, a hissy breath, through the teeth.

Hanjae isn’t looking at the ground, this time, as he walks forward; he steps over a twig and it breaks loudly in half, disrupts his equilibrium lightly, and Haruki takes a slow look behind his shoulders. Their eyes meet then – and Haruki’s have grown tiny on his face, swollen. They quickly look down, at himself, to the ground.

“Someone found my spot,” he says hoarsely, with a single laugh. He picks one of the bottle pieces on the floor near him, raw glass, and throws it down the hill. It doesn’t make a sound. Hanjae keeps waiting for the glass to break and make a sound, and doesn’t hear it, never hears it. “They got rid of all my chairs– that sucks. That just sucks.”

It’s been a long, long year – 2023, that is. The oddest one yet, their busiest. Hanjae’s half an actor now, goes to TV and gives magazine interviews alone now, and Haruki models often, editorials and campaigns and a whole outdoor, once.

Hanjae squats near him, some inches behind; he’s still scared of how big the drop is. He waits, and waits, and waits more.

Haruki leans a bit on his back, tells him, “You can see his house from here. That's why I liked it, it’s why I came.”

Hanjae squints, looks ahead, trying to spot it even though he has no idea what to look for. He’s never been to Choi Sangwon’s. He knows some of the others have, back when they were Boy Of The Week trainees. Their reports were mixed: he had a big pitbull, a bathroom wall painted in a horrible shade of red, and all the carpets somehow smelled like they were brand new, like no one ever stepped on them.

Haruki laughs, meek, and points ahead; right at the only house with no light coming from the windows, empty.

“That one,” he says. “I had a key copy, front and back door. I had a floor mattress, mine. I got clothes there, still– mostly underwear, sleep clothes. And my favorite necklace pin, family heirloom, in a drawer, there.”

Hanjae gulps something acid down his throat. “I see,” he says. “I– I see it.”

Haruki turns his whole face at him, suddenly. Looks sad, and tries to not appear sad, smiles. All white teeth. “Are you happy, Hanhan? Like, ever? Are you well, most of the time? Is your girlfriend nice to you, lately? You’re so busy now. With your dramas and all. I hope she understands. I hope she’s watching them, that she likes to see you on them.”

“I’m well, hyung. I’m– Yoora and I, we–,” Hanjae swallows again, dry. The raw truth is: happiness creeps up on him and it’s a battle to let it linger, when he looks around himself. He tries to start over, tries to sound firmer. “And you?”

“Pfff. What do you think? I know you saw the whole,” Haruki makes a hand motion – mimics an explosion, a disaster. “I heard you. Through everything. And thank you, by the way, for not bringing an army with you. For not acting like I’m a princess– Like I’m a runaway princess.”

Hanjae nods, uses that to say ‘you’re welcome’, and doesn’t mean it much. He should have brought an army with him. Or just his sister maybe, whom Haruki adores; avoids but adores.

Hanjae clears his throat, says, “Furumi’s at home. She wants to see you– talk to you.”

Haruki lets out an airy laugh. “Right. The baby.”

“You asked,” Hanjae reminds him.

“I know,” Haruki says, and turns his face upfront; looks at the drop, looks at the house. “I know I asked.”

“Hyung,” Hanjae says. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He sees Haruki run a hand over his face, up his hair, leave it there. He soothes himself before he speaks, a whole damn breaking sort of thing;

“It was so– I was checking on what Monica sent me to wear at the airport, and when I saw Bowie my first thought somehow was, did my boyfriend get a funeral? He was afraid of that. Of dying without a ceremony. His only real fear, I think, the only fear I figured out,” Haruki trails off, for a moment; seems to dive deep into a memory, takes a moment more. He comes back with a sneer. “Why the fuck Bowie? He didn’t like old music, didn’t like rock. Nothing connects– it’s just two dead people, that’s all, that’s it. And Chihoon was right there, right behind me, but for a moment– For a moment, it didn’t look like it was him. It looked like, from this one angle– Fuck, I can’t even say his full name, now. My first boyfriend, a name I can’t say. How sad. How very sad…”

He sounds like he’s giving Hanjae a cue to laugh. Hanjae doesn’t, wouldn’t be able to remember how to do so even if he tried.

Haruki says, “The thing is– The thing is, he made himself my life and then he died. He chose to die, picked a date and a place to die, and I can’t grieve, I shouldn’t want to grieve because it would be insane to feel– When I know he didn’t love me. He didn’t even fucking like me, treated that fucking dog better– Liked the dog better. It could kill me off, and he would say it was my fault. Everything about me made him so angry, all the time, all the time so angry when we were in private. My age, my face, my name, my accent. Everything. And everyone knows now. They all know, because I had to say– Because I can’t get a hold of it, lately. It’s always very cold in the winter, I always felt it, but now it’s the whole year. I feel very– very sad, cold, all year.”

“But they want this so bad, Hanjae,” Haruki tells him, quieter, holding in tears. “All of them. It’s not like you and me. We just landed here. To dance. To act. They live and breathe this thing, this Idol group thing, and it hit me then– It hit me that I can’t be like them, our members. That’s why I panicked, that’s why I couldn’t go to Fashion Week, why I had to come back here. I can’t do it like everyone else does it because it’s never been the same, my career– I don’t think I deserve these things. I didn’t even want them. I was in college, I came here to be in college. I wanted to dance, just dance, like my grandmother did– I wanted to do something for her memory, I wanted to be something she would be proud of, something anyone– anyone would look at and be proud of, and now no one fucking talks to me, anymore, my family doesn’t talk to me. I don’t know my mom’s new phone number– he didn’t even let me keep my mom’s new phone number. ‘Said I didn’t need it, said it didn’t matter.”

“I wish, back then–” Hanjae says, barely feeling his tongue moving. “That I did more. Anything.”

“You really wish that, don’t you? You mean it,” Haruki sounds like he’s marveling at it, that is a truly remarkable thing that Hanjae has said something and meant it. “You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever been with, Hanjae, really. The coolest, too. While I’m the worst one, right? Worst person you’ve ever been with. By miles. You can’t– Never again. No one like me. Never again.”

“Not like him again,” Hanjae tells him. “For you, not like him again.”

Haruki shows him an even sadder face, more wobbly, and shrugs. Just shrugs, looks away.

“I think no one,” he says, with a firm nod. “No one is better. It feels fitting to let that die, too. If I can’t get it right.”

“That’s not true,” Hanjae says, more with his clenched teeth than with his voice. “Not true. It’s not– Not better.”

“Oh, you don’t think so?” Haruki asks, and it’s just words. Just words being said to fill in silence, to cover up a strong sniff.

Hanjae can feel it again; the sharp line of disconnection rising, cutting the air in half, and he still doesn’t know how to stop it. He doesn’t know how to reach him.

He tries; he has to try. Hanjae licks his lips, forces some sound out of his throat: “You know– Haruki, you know, that all of us, everyone, will listen to anything you have to say. All the time.”

“I know that? Do I? And anything? That’s big. That’s really big. You shouldn’t let anyone say anything– no one should have to listen to just anything. Look at Chihoon now, Jiahang now. What good did knowing everything do?”

Hanjae’s at loss of words again, breathing around a lump on the middle of his throat. He’s too bad at this, too tired to think – just off a long action shoot. He still has his outside mask shoved into his jeans back pocket.

Somewhere in the distance, he can hear a dog haul; a coded hymn to the moon, maybe. Something about wanting life to stay still, wait a little longer. And then silence, a defeating one. A shuffling coming from Haruki in front of him.

“Can you, we– Ah, it’s so,” Haruki begins to say, shaking his head. “Can you hug me? If it’s not too hard or– bad for you. Just one time.”

Hanjae’s up on his feet before he’s even done talking. He stands his hand out, a timid invitation, and Haruki takes it, allowing Hanjae to help him up.

Haruki lays his forehead on his shoulder and stays there, being hugged, fully still until he takes a big shuddering breath. His arms stay glued to his sides, limp.

“I’ve never really– I never did just this,” he tells Hanjae; a shaky whisper, an old time secret. “It’s never been just this, before.”

Hanjae turns his face to the side and away so he can suck in air, so he can close his eyes shut, for a moment. He can’t think too much about it now. He taps at Haruki’s shoulder blades warmly, like a dad or a coach would – pat, pat, pat.

It gets an airy laugh out of him, a long and disbelieved one. “Bro hug!” Haruki exclaims when he steps away, whipping at his running nose, “You just gave me a bro hug. It’s really over now. We’re never going to fuck now. All that, over. What are we, if we’re bro hugging?”

“We’re a team. We’re friends,” Hanjae says, and thinks; you said so right here, once.

Haruki’s face makes too many things at once, hearing it. He looks down at himself again, accessing all the damage done to Monica Imano’s design. Bowie’s face has turned red with dust, and it looks even more smudged.

“VIANFINO is going to fire me,” he concludes with a dry chuckle. “They told me one more slip– the sponsoring, over.”

Hanjae bats an idle leaf off his shoulder and for once Haruki doesn’t flinch out of reach. He tries to give him a truthful close mouthed smile.

“Leave it to me– Leave them all with me,” Hanjae says, and leaves his hand there, a firm hold on him. “I’ll wash them.”

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ haruki .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ hanjae .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ dylan .#fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop oc #(maybe the Hanruki sex scene was the friends we made along the way?)

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purrplegyuu · 4 months

Text

Villain | Choi Yeonjun (one shot)

Warnings: smut, destructive thoughts, slightly mommy issues 'cuz i have them lol, drunk sex, 'best friends to fuck buddies' kinda relationship, cheating, angsty, exhibitionism.

Word count: 2.2k

Ayeee, I've been writting this since some time ago. I put so much effort on it, so please appreciate it.

Also, I wanted to wish y'all a happy new year. I would like to know how's it going so far.

Oh and remember my requests are open currently, so make sure to send some requests. I'm working hard on the ones I already have.

Luv yaa!

Remembering everything I yelled at him last night, I cannot help feeling insanely humiliated. The way I confessed my feelings, the way my voice broke, the way I almost cried when he said he never really felt the same… I was his best friend at the beginning, and then, I became nothing but his whore. Why would I think it would ever change?

Yet, it hurts so bad. And sitting right in front of his girlfriend is still more heartbreaking. Especially knowing the fact that she’s the reason we’ve begun with this shit, especially not really regretting everything and, somehow, thanking her instead.

“Gyuri, Truth or dare” One of our friends says, the one who knew what Yeonjun thought about me all this time, Minwoo.

“Truth” She answers. And, looking closely at her smile, I totally understand the reason he preferred her over me. She’s pretty, she’s charmful, she’s nice… she’s not a broken girl like me.

“Have you already had sex with Yeonjun?” Everyone yells at the spicy question. She laughs nervously.

“No no, we haven’t” She says, but Eunhyuk laughs by her side, saying she’s lying. He’s also one of our friends, the one who threw tons of parties in order to make her drunk enough to lose her virginity with Yeonjun. He never invited me tho.

“They did! Guys, I saw them! It was on the trip to the Han river” Says the third of our friends, Hanbin, the one whose parents own a house on the Han river, and always promised to take me there. But he didn’t… never did.

“Oh my god I knew it, this is so exciting!” Says the last of our friends, Minkyu, the only one who knew what my feelings for Yeonjun was.

Thinking about it carefully… none of them where ever my friends. I was never even close to them, and the aura when I was around them was way different than when there was only Yeonjun.

Why am I noticing it until now? Why do I notice how much of a bitch I’m until now? Why am I suddenly mad? Why do I hate her so much?

“Truth or dare” Minkyu says.

Everyone looks at me, awkwardly as I take my time to answer.

I cannot help thinking about every time I thought they were also my friends, all the things I made for them, all the times I helped them. And also think about all the parties I was not invited to, all the friend reunions they made and I casually showed up without realizing I was not wanted there… Yeonjun was right with it? Did he try to do it also?

“Truth” I say. My voice sounds way lower than usual. I look directly into the floor as I let the alcohol of the first bottle of beer I’ve ever drunk in my life take control of the things I say, the things I do.

“Uh uh, I’d like to ask!” Gyuri’s friend asks. “Do you… like Yeunjun?” She always came up with these kinds of rude questions to me. Even when we were not playing truth or dare. I always answer even rudder, however, I’m not rational Sohee now, I’m drunk Sohee.

“Hanna!” Gyuri laughs at his question, hitting her shoulder, telling her to shut up in a jokingly voice tone.

I take one more bottle of beer, and drink it until everything left is the middle of the liquid. Everyone is looking at me surprised at my unusual behavior. They’ve always known me because of how closed minded I am. I hated alcohol. Everything I hate now is everyone at this party. Including me.

“That was… a… clear answer” Gyuri says awkwardly. I suddenly hate her voice even more. I suddenly have the urge to jump onto her neck and bite until her head and the rest of her body are not one only object.

I suddenly want to see her broken for the first time.

“I’m actually fucking Yeonjun” Everyone look at me, waiting for anything to happen, maybe even thinking I’m joking. “Well, I guess he’s the one fucking me, right?”I see her face, I see the awkward smile in her face slowly fading, looking around to see if someone can give her an answer about what am I saying. Minwoo, Hanbin, Eunhyuk and Minkyu look at me surprised. I smile like a psycho, and then I laugh even more when Minwoo tries to silence me. “And… and If you do not believe me yet, come and look through the window”

I stand up, running to Minwoo’s bedroom. The one where he’s at. I know him well enough to know that this is his favourite place here.

I close the door right behind me, making him jump at my sudden presency.

“Sohee” The moment he looks at me makes me feel something I cannot really describe nor understand. I hate him so much because of everything he said, but I also love him so much. And the awkwardness would have made me back up and think about it carefully and regret. However, I was drunk as fuck.

I walk fastly towards him, until his chest is against mine. “I don’t want to talk anymore” He says.

“Neither I do” I say. “I just want you one more time”

“Are you drunk?” I ignore his question, trying to take his face and kiss him. But he stops me, taking my arms. “I don’t think you really want it, it’s going to hurt worst if we fuck now”

“I know what I want, Jjun. I want it, one last time. If you don’t fuck me tonight, I swear I’m going to regret it my whole life” We’re close enough to make it look suspicious for everyone, however, I want them to see. I want to see him hurted. I want him to cry almost the way I did last night.

“Please” I say, and that’s all he needs to take my body with his hands, pushing me against his chest and kissing my lips as deeply as he never did before. My arms go up to hug his neck strongly, wanting anything but to have him closer than it’s possible for the last time.

His hands run all over my body, caressing my neck, my back, and taking my butt strongly. I hear him buffing some times, squeezing me so good between his arms I can even forget that I want to see him hurted, wanting him to be mine forever instead.

“I’m sorry” He says between every kiss he gives to my lips, Then he kisses my cheeks, he bites the bulb of my ear, licks a long stripe of my neck, and sucks on my clavicle, taking the hem of the crop top I’m wearing, pushing it up until my chest is bare just for him.

If I have to say one of the main reasons I’ve fallen for him, this would totally be the way he’s the only man I’ve had sex with who doesn’t dislike how small my breasts are. Everyone just touched my body, fucked my pussy and left, but Yeonjun kisses my nipples, bites them, sucks on them like he likes them. Makes me feel like I’m perfect, even though I know I’m not.

I look around the room, somehow knowing it’s probably the last time I’m here. The memories of all the times I’ve been here almost makes me forget about Yeonjun’s hands working on lowering my oversized jeans.

Minwoo was I loss my virginity to. I didn’t ever really liked him, but I liked the way he made me feel. I was pretty for his eyes, I was funny to his ears, I was perfect for his hands. That’s what he used to say before he knew Sabrina, who he fucked one night on a party and never talked to her after that. It broke my heart, but I managed to act like I was okay because it would make me feel worse if he knew.

I fucked Hanbin one year after that on this same room. I didn’t actually wanted to also. However, I was starting to realise I liked Yeonjun, and I just wanted to be sure if that was right. It was. And I felt so dirty after that because Yeonjun himself saw everything through the weird window of Minwoo’s bedroom , the one I asked Minwoo once what was it for.

I didn’t talk to Yeonjun anymore this last year of high school because of how embarrassed I was. However, I found him again in college, and we became best friends.

Thinking about it, I can’t help feeling bad because of all of the memories in this room. I do am dirty.

I moan when I feel his fingers on my folds. He takes my jaw strongly, forcing me to look away from the empty window. When I look directly into her eyes, I notice it; I’m not mad.

I don’t hate him. I can’t.

Why? Why do I hate her so much when she has never done anything wrong to me?

The memory of my mother telling me that I’m a bad person, everything I’ve ever made is wrong… telling me I’m the villain of everybody’s story.

And even realizing I’m who I am now because of Yeonjun, I still can’t hate him.

He kisses me once again, and I feel his jeans falling to the floor beside mine. His hand taking my leg, lifting it until it’s hugging his waist. That's everything I need to realise I have fallen for him once again.

It takes him not much to have his dick buried deep into my cunt. My hands take his arms so strongly I fear I might be hurting him. However, I’m too lost in the feelings to care about that.

“Yeonjun” I murmur, lost enough to not notice what am I saying. “I’m sorry” My words don’t seem like they have a meaning, however, they do.

I look at Hanbin walking through the window, looking at us and fake confusion.

Yeonjun’s pushes on my cunt make me almost loss control. However, I manage to keep looking through the window as Minwoo and Eunhyuk do the same as Hanbin.

I feel this heat on my lower abdomen forming as this rut starts to tense.

Gyuri’s friend look at me surprised. She always thought I’m a whore. I don’t really care about her.

Yeonjun’s as close as me, I can tell because of the way his pace increases on speed and strength.

Minkyu’s eyes do not even look at me. And I know for the way he acts that he doesn’t feel great being part of this. He’s never been the worst, but he’s not the good one either.

The way his hips hit mine is making me crazy. I can barely keep looking at the window, but I try to do it as much as I can because she’s the only reason I’m doing it.

The moment Gyuri walks in, I can see her eyes watering instantly. There’s no illusions on her face anymore, and any kind of bright has faded from her face. And that’s everything I needed to cum.

Yeonjun cums also, moaning lowly in my ear.

And everything disappears for a second. It’s just me, enjoying the moment like I never really did before.

“Yeonjun?” Her broken voice brings me back to reality.

Yeonjun jumps almost scared, putting his clothes back on, trying to explain everything they just saw wasn’t what they saw.

I also put my clothes back on, looking at any other side of the room.

“You don’t need to say nothing” I look at her. I notice she’s fighting the urge to cry. “She-” Her voice broken, her eyes tear, she pouts, and I don’t like it.

“She already told everyone what have you both been doing all this time” Yeonjun looks at me.

He can’t believe that. And I feel like he would never believe I did if my face didn’t tell him the truth. I know he would blame all of his friends before believe his own girlfriend it was me. But the way hundreds of tears are running down my face tells everything.

I suddenly regret it because I realise this is not what I wanted.

I bitterly realise I have just broken him and her, but I have also broken me even more.

Mom was always right, and I’m not going to lie, I always knew it. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to be better. I would always be the villain of everyone’s story.

Now they do have reasons to call me the villain.

Masterlist

#purrplegyuu #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun smut #yeonjun smut #kpop #dom yeonjun #txt smut #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together smut #yeonjun best friend #angst #why does it feel so personal omfg T-T #Villain | Choi Yeonjun #tomorrow by together | purrplegyuu

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sourkive · 8 months

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009 : HUNDREDS OF LITTLE PRAYERS.

Starring: Tachikawa Tetsuo.

Featuring: Song Taejun, Jade Lim.

Summary: Tetsuo makes a mistake.

Word Count: 3k.

CW: Sexual reference, light dom/sub dynamic, choking, not full-out smut but still very NSFW.

Tetsuo listens to the click of Taejun’s indicator light and tries to pretend what he’s doing is normal. It wouldn’t be out of character, really, if only it were anybody else in the driver’s seat.

“I was surprised to get your call.” Taejun says. Tetsuo just hums. He's not surprised that he called Taejun, but he’s disappointed in himself. Long gone were the days where Tetsuo would kneel under Taejun’s studio desk while he worked. It’s not that Tetsuo suddenly found himself thinking he was above things like that, or anything. It's just that Taejun was kind of an odd case.

It had all started out so suddenly. Summer of 2020, after a couple of intense years of promoting in Tarot which felt more like a couple of months, Yoo Seobin formally introduced Tetsuo to song Taejun, and told them they’d be working together on Tetsuo’s solo record. Somewhere around the fourth recording session, Tetsuo found himself with his chest pressed tight against the recording booth window, Taejun crouched behind him with his big hands spreading Tetsuo’s ass cheeks apart and his tongue deep between them.

It’s all a blur. Tetsuo knows he didn’t start it, but when he realized where it was going, he was all too eager to keep it on that track. Eventually they spent almost as much time debasing the studio as they did recording in it. It was just for fun; and Tetsuo hadn’t ever really attached much value to sex beyond fun. For as long as he’d been sexually active, he’d always gotten around. He was well aware that he’d already built himself a bit of a reputation in the industry, and he was fine with that. Thanks to that reputation, he could have easily been in any man’s car, right now. But he’s in Taejun’s.

Tetsuo last heard from Taejun a month after his album dropped, when he and Minwoo agreed to be boyfriends and, though they’d decided that they could sleep with other people as long as they were safe and honest about it, Tetsuo didn’t really think a long-running friends with benefits situation was really appropriate anymore. As far as he knew, Taejun didn’t want anything more than sex from their arrangement, so he’d imagined the discussion would be pretty easy. Yet when Tetsuo paid a visit to Taejun, feeling he at least owed him a face-to-face conversation, Taejun had just gone quiet and nodded. And when Tetsuo started to ask if he was okay, he’d interrupted and said ‘if we’re not gonna fuck then there’s no need for you to still be here, is there?’

That was the last time Taejun had spoken to Tetsuo.

Later, Minwoo would confide that Taejun had always given him horrendous vibes and call him a creep. ‘He's always eyeing me. it’s like he’s undressing me in his imagination. and he’s never, like, put a hand on me, but he always gets way too close. I refuse to be alone with that guy.’

And Tetsuo had kept secret from Minwoo that he had so earnestly returned Taejun’s same advances. That he had let Taejun undress him and put his hands on him and wanted it. He didn’t want Minwoo to judge him or think him desperate.

Minwoo left, though. He’d ignored him for a month and Tetsuo wants to be fucked. He wants to be fucked by someone who, at the very least, knows what his last name is. And it couldn’t really be anybody Minwoo would approve of. None of Minwoo’s friends would touch him, and Tetsuo didn’t actually have any friends outside of Valentine; it had purposefully been manipulated to be an insular community. Open as their relationship may have been, there was a matter of respect now that it was over. Weighing up who was considered his friend and who was considered Minwoo’s only left Tetsuo with his groupmates, and that wasn’t going to happen.

He wouldn’t even know where to start seducing one of the Histeria members. Taejun, for better or worse, was the only option left.

“So,” Taejun says. Tetsuo just wants the car ride to be over so they don’t have to speak anymore. He knows that he’s well within his right to sleep with whoever he wants, but something about the whole thing just makes him feel cheap. He's never felt that way before - or, maybe he has, but he’d liked it. This was a different type of feeling altogether. Maybe it’s shame. That's a new one. “What happened to your boyfriend?”

“Dumped me,” Tetsuo says shortly, looking out of the window.

“Why?”

“Didn’t say.”

“So I’m a rebound fuck?”

“Yes.”

Taejun snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “I'm not complaining. I've missed you.”

“You haven’t once tried to speak to me.” Tetsuo says, scratching his eyebrow with his pinkie.

“Well, yeah,” Taejun scoffs. He keeps his eyes on the road, but Tetsuo can see his smirk in the reflection of the window against the pitch black night. “I didn't miss speaking to you.”

Tetsuo folds his arms. “Nice,” he says.

“C’mon.” Taejun says. “I'm kidding. And it’s not like we ever did much talking in the first place. We worked and fucked and that’s how we both liked it.”

“I guess,” Tetsuo says, looking down at his lap.

“Hey,” Taejun’s voice drops an octave, in its best effort at comforting. “I was trying to be funny. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It's fine, you didn’t.” Tetsuo says. Taejun may have been speaking in the cadence of a joke, but Tetsuo knew there was a truth behind it. He hadn’t expected Taejun to have missed him. If he missed him, he wouldn’t have spent the past year barely acknowledging that he existed, awkwardly treating Tetsuo like a distant acquaintance in front of others as if he hadn’t once made a habit out of being down his throat. He didn’t expect any different from this, but he had imagined Taejun might do a better job at pretending.

By the time they pull up at Taejun’s house, Tetsuo is half considering just asking him to drive him home. But he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t do it. And he doesn’t doubt that Minwoo is fucking other people, too. So he gets out of the car, and lets Taejun spread his hand across his lower back as he ushers him into the house. As soon as the door closes behind them, Taejun’s big hands wrap around Tetsuo’s waist and push him hard against the wood.

Taejun looms over him, and presses their bodies together. with such little space in between them, Tetsuo has to crane his neck up to look at him. There’s just under twenty centimetres’ difference in height between them, and Tetsuo had forgotten that part of it. The weird thrill of how much bigger and stronger Taejun is. Minwoo was stronger than he looked, being a dancer, but he was short and lithe like Tetsuo. It didn't make the sex any worse, but there’s something about Taejun towering over him, one hand slowly travelling up his side, parting from his body as it reaches his chest, only to cup the bottom of his chin and tilt his head up. Taejun holds Tetsuo as if he’s a delicate ornament, too easy to break, and under the large span of his palms, that’s exactly what Tetsuo feels like.

“You look good,” Taejun says. “With your hair buzzed like that. It suits you.”

Tetsuo gives a soft smile; though the words really only serve to drive home just how long Taejun had been pretending he didn’t exist. Tetsuo had first started shaving his head in August last year. “Thanks,” He says, simply.

“It's a shame that I can't pull it anymore though.”

Tetsuo does snort out a laugh at that, though perhaps only because Minwoo had expressed the exact same sentiment.

“You’ll just have to be creative.” He smiles up at him, pushing himself up onto his tiptoes to press their lips together. Taejun’s hand wraps around the back of Tetsuo’s head, his other hand spreading across the small of his back and pulling his body closer.

As they kiss, and Tetsuo’s eyes flutter closed, his hands running up the muscled planes of Taejun’s abdomen and resting on his chest, Tetsuo thinks that maybe he made the right choice. Minwoo was made of angles and sharp edges. Taejun is all hard rounded muscle and rough touches, his fingertips dig into Tetsuo’s scalp just a little too hard and it spins his brain around. The kiss breaks and Tetsuo looks up into Taejun’s eyes, round and expressive and he’s relieved not to see the glass baby doll eyes of Minwoo, who can see so far into Tetsuo but Tetsuo can’t see anything back. Minwoo’s eyes are so good at hiding everything, sparkling yet easy to sharpen to a point. Taejun looks at Tetsuo with a palpable lust, so easy to read, as if Tetsuo is food and Taejun is a starved man. Perhaps this was always the only option; the only true avenue for distraction.

“How do you want it?” Taejun asks.

“Hard,” Tetsuo says. “Make it so I can’t think anymore.”

Taejun grins, hand sliding down to the back of Tetsuo’s neck before dropping, only to cup the underneath of his jaw, fingers tightening just slightly around the top of Tetsuo’s throat. He pushes back, Tetsuo’s head knocking against the door with a soft thud. His heart begins to race, a hand curling around Taejun’s wrist, though it’s mostly performative, making no effort to pull it away. He can already feel himself growing hard, thighs shuffling slightly as he looks up at Taejun, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” Taejun asks.

“Yes, sir.” Tetsuo breathes. It almost feels like no time has passed since the last time they did this, easily falling back into their old dynamic. Tetsuo is glad. He needs this, needs to turn his brain off and blindly follow Taejun’s orders again.

“Get down, then.” Taejun says, pulling his hands from him.

Tetsuo rests his back against the door and lets his body slide down it, tucking his hands under his ass as he falls to his knees, opening his mouth wide, obedient, eyes locking with Taejun’s. he looks down at him darkly, undoing his belt and dropping it down beside Tetsuo. Tetsuo flinches a little as the metal buckle clatters against the hard wooden floor, and just for a second, he sees something dark flash in Taejun’s eyes.

He will be nothing, for a while. nothing but food to be eaten. And that’s better than being sad.

Taejun finishes with a deep groan in Tetsuo’s ear.

His hips quake against the curve of Tetsuo’s ass, stomach twitching against his back. Tetsuo winces as he feels him pull out, and he raises his head from the pillow it had been pushed into, folding his arms underneath it and letting out a groan.

“Fuck.” Taejun says as he rolls onto his back, flopping beside Tetsuo. His muscular chest is red and heaving, a hand pushing his bangs from his face as he turns to regard Tetsuo. “I forgot how good you can take it.”

Tetsuo feels his face heat up at the words, burying his face back in the pillow as he lets out a bashful laugh. His heart still hammers in his chest, his lower back is already starting to ache, and his feet are cramped from curling his toes. And if he had wondered why he’d ever bothered to entertain Taejun’s advances in the first place, he supposes that the way his legs tremble is his answer. He’d had three orgasms. He'd wanted to turn his brain off, and Taejun had definitely gotten him to do that.

“You should shower,” Taejun says. “Then I'll drive you home.”

And it’s really not like Tetsuo had expected to stay the night. Maybe he thought they might cuddle a little, though. And he feels stupid to be disappointed when he’d known exactly what he came here for and had gotten it.

“You go first,” he says, voice muffled, not lifting his head from the pillow. Laying in his mess on the sheets is becoming more and more unpleasant as it cools, but he still can’t exactly feel his legs. “I don't think I'm ready to stand up.”

Taejun laughs at that, reaching out to give Tetsuo’s bare ass a little smack as he pushes himself up. he settles beside him, hands landing once more on Tetsuo’s ass cheeks. He pulls them apart, and Tetsuo can feel Taejun’s cum leak out of him. For some reason, it’s repulsive to him to have Taejun look at that. He wants to pull his hands away, but he really has no reason to, so he just screws his eyes shut and pretends it’s Minwoo. Which is antithetical to the purpose of being here, but it makes him feel a little less disgusting.

“Can I take a picture?” Taejun asks. The thought of it actually makes Tetsuo’s skin crawl.

“I'd rather you didn’t.” He says.

“I won't get your face in it, or anything.”

“I'm just, like, really not comfortable with that,” He says. Taejun lets go of him, humming briskly under his breath and getting off the bed to make his way to the en suite bathroom. Tetsuo guesses that that means any conversation they might have had is over.

In a way that should have been obvious the very first time they met, Tetsuo realizes that Taejun is kind of a manchild. Even his big fancy house was decorated the way a 12 year old boy would dream of decorating the mansion they’d fantasize about buying one day. It was full of baseball memorabilia; from framed posters of players on the walls, to signed bats and balls in display cases. Tetsuo guesses that that’s fine - he has a collection of signed albums from his seniors that he holds with utmost reverence, and a photocard of his favorite male idol in the back of his phone case.

But even he’d recently taken his posters down, kind of feeling like at twenty-two years of age, he’d perhaps outgrown the need to scrapbook his interests across his bedroom walls. Taejun was twenty-nine and he’d used his fame and fortune to buy a mansion only to turn it into a shrine to baseball. It was a little odd.

Tetsuo rolls onto his stomach, grimacing as his skin peels away from the damp sheets. His abdomen is slick and cold and sticky, and the feeling from earlier is very much back - he feels cheap. His fingers curl around the little golden cross that never leaves his neck, and he looks to the ceiling and glares past it.

“Shut up.” He mutters.

Taejun drops Tetsuo off around the corner. “It’s easier for both of us if nobody sees.” He says. “I’m not supposed to fuck you guys.”

Tetsuo doesn’t question the phrasing. He doesn't wonder why Taejun’s car doesn’t pull away. He's not paying enough attention anymore to pick up on it. as he steps out into the chilly night, he just pulls the hood of the oversized hoodie he’d borrowed from Taejun (his own had been casualty to the first of the three orgasms, so Taejun told him he’d wash it and give it to him ‘next time.’ Tetsuo doesn’t intend to get it back.) over his head and tries his best to not look like he’s limping his way back to the building.

He doesn't want to be seen by anybody. He doesn’t want them to know that he did this. But even now, past two in the morning, luck is not on his side. Jade catches him at the door of the apartment complex Valentine’s younger groups reside in, holding it wide open for him and clearly not reading anything from Tetsuo’s body language; which he imagines must scream ‘I don’t want to be acknowledged.’

“Hey, Tetsuo!” Jade greets in English with a cheerful bow. Taking the door handle from him, Tetsuo offers a polite bow and a pleasant smile.

As he steps backwards into the hallway light, he asks “Where are you off to?” but Jade isn’t listening. His smile has dropped, and he’s looking at the hoodie swamping Tetsuo’s thin frame with a heavy brow.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, suspicion heavy in his voice. Suddenly, Tetsuo feels himself panic. The guilt of what he’s done must be written all over his face. Wait, fuck, is there anything else on his face? Are his eyes still puffy from tears? Is he limping? Does he smell like sex? He feels his heart battering in his chest, and he doesn’t know why, because he’s a grown man and everyone knows that he’s a slut anyway, and Jade has no room to judge, and he hasn’t done anything fucking wrong.

Right?

“Uh.” he looks down; and the check mark on the breast of the hoodie screams a quick answer at him. “The Nike store.”

Jade regards him for a second. “Oh.” He says. His face softens, and he gives another smile. “Well, it looks good on you! Anyway, my ride’s waiting, so.”

With another little bow, Jade disappears into the night, and Tetsuo quickly shuts himself in the apartment complex hallway and lets out a shaky sigh that comes out halfway to a cough. Running his hand over his head, he mutters; “jesus fucking christ.”

Wearily, he regards the stairwell with his lips thinned into a bemused line as he laments his still wobbling knees. Tarot lived on the fifth floor.

Who knew getting railed could have so many downsides.

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apcomplexhq · 10 months

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✦ Nome do personagem: Seo Kangjun. ✦ Faceclaim e função: YooJung - OnlyOneOf. ✦ Data de nascimento: 12/10/1998. ✦ Idade: 25 anos. ✦ Gênero e pronomes: Masculino, ele/dele. ✦ Nacionalidade e etnia: Coreia do Sul, sul-coreano. ✦ Qualidades: Atencioso, cuidadoso e criativo. ✦ Defeitos: Impulsivo, obsessivo e intenso. ✦ Moradia: Asphodel Meadows. ✦ Ocupação: Professor na Divine Children's Academy. ✦ Twitter: @AM98KJ ✦ Preferência de plot: ANGST, CRACK, ROMANCE, SMUT. ✦ Char como condômino: Leva a sério o cumprimento das regras e regulamentos, sempre disposto a contribuir para a harmonia e o bem-estar da comunidade. É o tipo de pessoa que vai ajudar os vizinhos a carregar as compras, além de sempre auxiliar quando alguém precisa de sal ou açúcar pra completar uma receita.

Biografia:

Kang Junseo é um jovem talentoso que decidiu seguir sua paixão por educar crianças. Ele é amado e respeitado por seus alunos e colegas de trabalho devido à sua dedicação e abordagem criativa no ensino. Desde muito jovem, ele tinha uma paixão inegável por educar e ajudar os outros a se desenvolverem. Porém, sempre teve uma tendência a se tornar excessivamente obcecado com os detalhes e perfeição em sua profissão, dessa forma, ele frequentemente se encontrava sobrecarregado, ficando exausto e acabando por negligenciar sua própria saúde e bem-estar.

Durante sua infância, o rapaz lidou com uma sensação de falta de atenção e conexão emocional por conta dos pais ocupados e exigentes que estavam sempre muito imersos em suas próprias carreiras. Mas apesar das dificuldades familiares, encontrou um refúgio em seu avô, uma figura calorosa e carinhosa, que dedicava tempo e atenção genuína ao garoto. Suas relações familiares moldaram a maneira como Junseo se relacionava com os outros. Ele valorizava profundamente as conexões autênticas e buscava criar um ambiente amoroso e inclusivo para seus alunos, preenchendo a lacuna que ele sentiu em sua própria infância.

Sua vida profissional parecia estar tranquila e encaminhada até conhecer Kim Minwoo, um dos pais de um de seus alunos, um indivíduo bem-sucedido, charmoso e envolvente, que imediatamente chama a atenção de Junseo. O que começa como uma conexão casual e amigável rapidamente se transforma em algo mais profundo e complicado, já que há um detalhe que torna essa situação ainda mais desafiadora: Kim Minwoo é um homem casado e sua esposa não está ciente dos sentimentos que ele desenvolveu por Junseo.

O rapaz sabia que seu envolvimento com esse homem era culpa de sua tendência impulsiva e intensa, já que tomou decisões precipitadas, se deixando levar por emoções intensas sem avaliar completamente as ramificações éticas desse relacionamento.

Conforme o tempo passa, os dois começam a passar mais tempo juntos, encontrando desculpas para se ver fora da escola. Eles compartilham histórias pessoais, sonhos e desafios, formando um vínculo cada vez mais forte. No entanto, o relacionamento secreto deles coloca em risco não apenas o casamento de Minwoo, mas também a carreira e a reputação de Junseo como professor.

Tomar decisões era sempre difícil já que Junseo sentia as coisas profundamente e mergulhava de cabeça em seus sentimentos, e essa intensidade emocional também o tornava vulnerável a altos e baixos emocionais intensos, tendo uma certa dificuldade em pensar racionalmente quando seus sentimentos estão em jogo.

#aceitos #seo kangjun #kangjun #onlyoneof #asphodel meadows #professor #divine children’s academy #yoojung

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saltficrecs · 1 year

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Helpful

Helpful by 34_35 (AO3 - 4,000 words)

Fandom: Extraordinary Attorney Woo

Relationship: Minwoo/Suyeon

Summary: Maybe it was the stress, or his smug face, or maybe she was just really really drunk

Notes: smut. it’s smut. he needs a slap to the face. she provides.

#fandom:extraordinaryattorneywoo #character:minwoo #character:suyeon #pairing:minwooxsuyeon #tag:chaptered #tag:complete #author:34_35 #archive:ao3 #length:4k #tag:smut

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fundacaojerichohq · 2 years

Photo

INFORMAÇÕES BÁSICAS

Nome: Yoon Minji.

Codinome: Ajax.

Aniversário: 21/07/2004.

Nacionalidade: Coreano.

Espécie: Humano.

Identidade de gênero e pronomes: Homem cisgênero, ele/dele.

Moradia: 5° andar.

Ocupação: Trabalha como barista em uma cafeteria no distrito de Gangnam.

FC: Han Jisung (Stray Kids), idol.

Plots de interesse: Todos, menos smut.

DESENVOLVIMENTO

QUALIDADES

Esperto, complacente e atraente.

DEFEITOS

Orgulhoso, impetuoso e entediado.

HEADCANONS

Sendo filho de um membro ativo da Jericho, Chae Minji sempre soube do tempo limitado de seu pai. Eram raras as vezes que outras pessoas o visitavam, já que, para protegê-lo, sua existência era um segredo que apenas pessoas próximas de seu pai sabiam. Então, com sua mãe morta desde seu nascimento, o garoto aprendeu a viver na ausência de qualquer responsável e desenvolveu uma certa independência cedo em sua vida. Mas, também muito novo, ele descobriu o quão perigoso era o trabalho de seu pai.

Chae Minwoo, um templário, morreu em missão quando Minji tinha 7 anos. Ele ficou esperando por seu pai, sentado no sofá como sempre fazia, mas vários dias se passaram e ele nunca voltou. No início, pensou ter sido apenas um atraso, algum contratempo na missão. Esse pensamento logo se tornou sensação de abandono, como se Minwoo tivesse cansado dele. Então se transformou em apenas tristeza, ressentimento por ter sido esquecido, até que alguém finalmente passou por aquela porta.

Yoon Taeyoung, um silenciador e amigo próximo de Minwoo, um dos poucos que sabiam sobre o filho do homem. A recepção de Minji constou de lágrimas e tentativas, falhas, de agressão. Ele estava triste e irritado, não apenas com seu pai, mas com ele mesmo por ainda estar esperando por algo. O homem – que, durante toda a explosão da criança, ficou apenas parado, esperando ele se acalmar – viu aquilo como uma oportunidade.

O que Taeyoung viu durante aquela missão o deixou marcado. Em toda a sua vida como caçador, ele nunca tinha experienciado a morte tão de perto. Nunca sentiu tanto medo. Quando retornou algo havia claramente mudado. E ele refletiu tudo o que sentia na pequena criança em sua frente, no último pedaço vivo de Minwoo, alimentando sua raiva e tristeza.

Sua ideia era criar o equivalente a uma arma viva, algo que faria o que ele mandasse sem questionar, e que poderia ser descartado caso falhasse. Sem família, sem amigos, Chae Minji era uma oportunidade perfeita. Por isso, ele acolheu o menino como seu próprio filho, mudou seu nome para Yoon Minji e o enganou com um carinho falso que ele tanto carecia.

Não demorou para que a vida de Minji se tornasse um verdadeiro inferno. Taeyoung logo se mostrou alguém frio, dando um tratamento militar para o menino desde muito cedo. Não pretendia brincar de casinha. Sua rotina era composta por sessões de treinamento e as diversas punições por qualquer falha ou sinal de desobediência – as vezes, apenas por pura diversão de seu responsável.

[ TW: Violência, agressão, tortura. ] As punições em questão eram severas, beirando a tortura, e eram aplicadas sem sinal algum de dó. Por conta das várias vezes que apanhou como castigo, Minji possui diversas marcas e cicatrizes espalhadas por seu corpo, concentradas mais em lugares que podem ser escondidas com facilidade. Pelas vezes que foi afogado, desenvolveu um medo excessivo de água. E a lista seguia.

[ TW : Tortura psicológica. ] Seu método mais efetivo, porém, foi o bunker. Construído logo abaixo de um metrô na Coréia do Sul, era uma sala vazia, gelada e sem nenhuma fonte de luz que não fosse a porta aberta. As paredes do cômodo foram especialmente projetadas para que, sempre que o metrô passasse, fosse possível ouvir apenas o som de seus trilhos. Foi o lugar onde Minji passou a maior parte de seu tempo. Fosse pelo barulho, estresse ou trauma, Minji teve seu ouvido danificado e desenvolveu uma hipersensibilidade a certos sons, em certo momento. Também foi onde o garoto, eventualmente, quebrou.

Minji se tornou movido pelo pavor. O medo de falhar em qualquer aspecto e ser punido. Isso logo o levou ao limite que Taeyoung queria. A partir disso, todo o seu trabalho se tornou mais fácil. Yoon Minji obedeceria qualquer ordem dada, sem senso de autopreservação, como um mero boneco. Em cima disso, era habilidoso, afiado e preciso, como uma arma.

Yoon Taeyoung saiu de seu cargo na Jericho quando Minji atingiu idade suficiente para entrar como aprendiz. Foi quase como uma substituição. O garoto entrou recebendo a simplesmente ordem de obedecer, independente de qual seja a ordem. Mesmo podendo ser facilmente comparado com uma porta na maior parte do tempo, Minji ainda possui um carisma natural que puxou de seu pai. Os resquícios de uma personalidade que sobrou nele. Ele também se tornou extremamente confiante em suas habilidades, transformando todo aquele seu pavor em orgulho.

Fora da presença contínua de Taeyoung, Minji se permite relaxar um pouco e até se expressar, especialmente seu descontentamento, mesmo que minimamente. Apesar disso, ainda obedece qualquer fala em tom de ordem quase imediatamente.

Por conta de sua hipersensibilidade auditiva, Minji costuma estar sempre com fones ou tampões de ouvido, para tentar amenizar a dor que sente e diminuir o zumbido. Frequentemente, usa isso de desculpa para ignorar outras pessoas.

ARQUIVO JERICHO

CLASSE E PODERES

Silenciador

Presença Oculta.

Mestre Ilusionista.

Dança das Lâminas.

RANKING

Aprendiz

ARMA PREFERIDA

Não possui arma preferida.

ATRIBUTOS

FÍSICO

Força: 1

Destreza: 4

Vigor: 1

SOCIAL

Carisma: 3

Aparência: 2

Manipulação: 3

MENTAL

Percepção: 4

Inteligência: 3

Raciocínio: 3

SINGULARIDADE

#p: yoon minji #fc: han jisung #e: humano #c: silenciador #r: aprendiz

0 notes

kdreamscenario · 5 years

Text

The Boss’ Girl Ch. 11

Lee Minwoo (Shinhwa) X Reader X Jeon Jungkook (BTS)

Office!AU

Rated: M sub!Jungkook, switch!reader, dom!Minwoo

Word Count: 6955 Ch.10

Jungkook puts your stamina boosting advice to good use. When he’s got the time he edges himself nearly to tears. At first he tried not to reimagine you touching him. The humiliation of that day is still bitter and raw but apparently in the best way possible. It didn’t take long until he accepted the kink and caved. He can admit he’d let you do that to him again and again.

The little make out sessions he has with Mina go farther and farther. He can tell she’s less endeared by his holding off. If he wasn’t such a perfect boyfriend besides that she would’ve dumped him. It doesn’t help that he often has dreams about you or Mina. One particularly disturbing dream of you treating him like an actual baby he would like to wipe clear from his memory forever.

He hopes that finally sleeping with Mina will let him forget you and this whole mess. Once Mina finally gets a taste of Jungkook in bed she is insatiable. He was right about learning fast. He also tries incredibly hard to please and perform at his absolute best. Pair that with his charming good looks and his perfect chiseled body, there’s no comparing to anyone Mina had been with previously.

She’s extremely vocal about this at every girls night. All the other girls are understandably jealous. Frankly you’re getting annoyed with her repetitive bragging. It’s not tactful to tell your sex life so openly. You can’t imagine Jungkook would be appreciative of her airing their private business to anyone who will listen.

When the next Friday comes you consider just going home and waiting for Minwoo to call you. He has a business dinner to attend and expects to be out quite late. They’re a long time partner of the company. It’s been a long week and you do need a drink but having to listen to Mina constantly slip in comments about Jungkook is really getting on your nerves.

The office is set up perfectly for Monday morning and you’re picking up your bag to leave. You check your phone one last time to see if anyone else happened to cancel on going out so you wouldn’t be the only one. To you delight, Mina left a message saying she’s headed home. She says she’s been having bad cramps all day and wants to go lie down. Not to be mean but that instantly brightens your mood. It’s very likely she would have Jungkook stay at home with her to treat her like a princess. You could finally enjoy a night out with no problems.

The ding of the elevator doors opening dampens your celebration. It’s completely put out when Jungkook walks into the room. “Jungkook what are you doing here?” You snap a little meaner than you meant to be. He stops and looks surprised by your tone. “Am I not supposed to be here?” He asks looking around at the empty room. “No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that way. I just got a message that Mina isn’t feeling well. I expected you would be with her.”

Jungkook smiles now that he knows you’re not mad. “Yeah. She said she wanted to rest by herself and would probably sleep early.” You figure Mina likely started her period. Knowing her, she wouldn’t want Jungkook to see her in comfy old clothes, eating way too much chocolate, and lounging around with a heating pad. Girls in early relationships have an image to uphold.

“So why are you here then?” You ask in a nicer tone. Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Well I’m going out to the bar again with the other interns. I figured you’re also going out with the secretaries. I thought it would be nice of me to walk you there so you weren’t alone.” You can’t help but smile. He’s really such a sweet guy.

“Thank you Jungkook. I appreciate the offer. Though I worry what others will think to see you with me the first time you’re not with Mina.” You say this casting a glance at the security camera wondering if Minwoo is watching you now. Jungkook’s smile drops. “Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that.” He replies sadly. “I’m sure you didn’t. Unfortunately it’s something you need to always think about in this office.” You add annoyed.

“I could at least ride the elevator down with you? I’ll get off on the fourth floor and catch up with Namjoon.” Jungkook suggests. That sounds harmless enough. It’s very unlikely anyone would get on at any of the floors in between. “Sure. We could do that.” You nod and walk toward the elevator. Jungkook follows quickly behind.

Once the metal doors close with the two of you inside, Jungkook clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?” He asks nervously. You look at him eyebrows raised. “I suppose.” “Does Mina talk a lot about our personal life to you ladies?” “Yes she does. Unbearably often and in great detail.” You answer frankly. Jungkook blushes. He’s not sure if he wants to ask just how much you know.

“Do you not like that she talks about it?” You’re genuinely concerned. Jungkook hums and takes a minute to think. “I guess I don’t mind? A lot of the other guys started cheering me right after it first happened and I was wondering how they found out. They don’t really tease me much anymore now so it’s fine.” That answer doesn’t sound very convincing to you. “If you don’t like her talking about it then say something to her. Honestly, please say something to her. We’re all getting a little tired of hearing about it.”

The elevator stops at the fourth floor as you finish saying this. Jungkook nods. “Thanks for the advice. See you at the bar.” He smiles and steps out of the opening doors. You hope he does say something and your Friday nights can go back to normal.

The bar was really just what you needed. The interns, secretaries, and a few others all sit together at a few big tables. There’s lots of good junk food shared around, pleasant conversation, and plenty of drinks. Jungkook sits almost on the other side of the room from you and barely looks in your direction. You almost forget he’s there all together. Mostly you drink your wine and soak in the atmosphere.

By your third glass it’s nearing 10pm. Minwoo sent you a message a few minutes ago saying he’d likely be out at least another hour. Everyone else has started to suggest heading home or going out to another place. There’s the risk of falling asleep, but going home to wait for Minwoo is the best option to you. Maybe you could get a head start on the fun and be ready with something special.

With there being more than just the girls together there wasn’t much gossip or stories to tell so you all paid your own bills. Most of your group is all piled outside at the same time. The sidewalk is a bit crowded before you’re all parting different ways. You’re close to the curb to hail a cab after you’ve said goodbye to everyone.

Two overly drunk guys trying to pass through your group end up knocking into someone. It causes a chain reaction of people getting pushed. You get pushed in the end. When you step you have nowhere to go but over the edge of the curb. Yoona and Sooji manage to grab you before you end up falling face first into the street, but you end up awkwardly turning your ankle. When they pull you back you yelp out in pain stepping with the twisted ankle.

Everyone nearby who saw what happened or heard your shout start asking if you’re okay and what happened. Yoona and a lot of the guys are arguing with the drunkards. You lean most of your weight on Sooji and hold up your hurt leg. You try but you can’t put any weight on it. Namjoon kneels down and takes a look at it. He gently pushes down around the area making you hiss in pain.

“Good news is I don’t think anything’s broken but I’m sure it will be a pretty bad sprain. Do you want us to take you to the hospital?” Namjoon tells you straightening back up. You shake your head. You really don’t want to deal with the hospital right now. “No. It’s late and I know how to treat a sprain. I can see my doctor in the morning for it.” “Alright. Well let’s get you a cab then.” Namjoon calls for a taxi to come.

“Can you put any weight on it?” JaeHee asks you. You try to take a step even with Sooji helping you but even setting your foot down hurts. “I don’t know if any of us can carry you.” Yoona says. Jungkook steps in then waiting for a way he could help. “I’m sure I could carry her.” He states gesturing to take Sooji’s place as your crutch.

You’re passed off and Jungkook carefully picks you up bridal style. “Oh, wow.” One of the girls audibly swoons. You’re just as surprised. He’s not even straining at all to hold you up. “Jungkook you don’t mind taking her home for us?” Namjoon asks. “Of course not.” The younger answers. You’re just glad no one is teasing or making jabs about him taking you home.

The taxi arrives not too much later. You both say your goodbyes and promises to update when you’ve arrived safely. Jungkook gently sets you in the seat and jogs around to the other side. He asks you if you’re comfortable enough right away. There’s not much you can do about the cramped back seat of car beside take off your high heel. Besides giving directions to the driver the ride is quiet. You have to heavily insist on paying for the ride against Jungkook’s insisting.

He carries you into your building. While he steadily holds you in the elevator you both pointedly avoid making any eye contact. You’re definitely not thinking about how strong and solid he feels. The last time you felt his toned chest was the awkwardly intimate moment with the vibrator. Both of you are pointedly trying not to think about that.

Jungkook has no problem getting the two of you through your door, kicking off his shoes and setting you down on your couch. He’s amazed at how spacious and neat your apartment is. It’s obviously an expensive place. “Wow. Your place is really nice.” He comments looking around. “Thanks. Can you put these over there for me?” You ask holding out your shoes.

He takes them over and puts them in the empty spot on your shoe rack and brings over your slippers. “This is embarrassing to ask but could you help me over to the bathroom?” “Sure!” He picks you right back up and carries you over to the bathroom. It’s a little difficult to do without hurting yourself but you manage to use the restroom. There’s no way you’re getting your stockings back on so they get kicked over to your laundry basket.

You open the door but Jungkook’s not there. “Jungkook?” You call out for him. He comes over in an instant and picks you right back up. He carries you over to the couch again and settles you among the cushions. “You should keep your foot elevated for a little while.” He helps you put a pillow under your legs. “I hope you don’t mind me going into your fridge.” He says pulling a bag of ice wrapped in a towel off your coffee table.

“No, thank you so much Jungkook. You’re doing so much.” The ice feels so nice on the already swollen joint. “I got you some water too if you want.” He says holding out the glass. You take it gratefully. “Wow what service. Mina might actually be lucky to have you.” You regret saying that when you see Jungkook’s stunned reaction. You look away from him and drink your water.

Jungkook asks you if he could use your bathroom. That gives you time to check your phone and settle in. Minwoo hasn’t said anything since his last text. It’s now around 10:40 and you figure he’ll likely be done around 11. You send him a text to let him know you got hurt. He’ll likely come home as soon as he reads it and come to take care of you.

Jungkook comes back and goes right down to the end of your couch by your feet. He lifts the ice bag and sets it on the coffee table. He gently presses around the swollen tissue. You pull your foot back in pain. ��Sorry I just want to check again to be sure nothing’s torn or broken.” You let him take back your leg and examine the painful area. “I don’t think it’s anything serious but you should go to the doctor tomorrow.”

He moves his hands up higher to massage the upper part of your ankle into your calf. You stop flinching in pain and enjoy the good feeling. Jungkook takes his time rubbing the muscles. He carefully passes over your sprain and starts massaging your foot. You hum in enjoyment. It’s the worst possible moment for him to remember this is the same foot you got him off with. He tries to put his thoughts into just the massage but it’s difficult when you close your eyes and moan softly.

He takes one hand away from the massage to adjust himself in his pants while you have your eyes closed. The movement makes you open your eyes and you catch him. He stops when you do, so embarrassed at being caught. “You really must have a foot fetish.” You tease. Jungkook goes red to the ears. “No! Of course I don’t. That’s so gross.” He whines. You laugh. “What’s got you all excited then? Still can’t massage a girl without getting hard? Thought you’d be a little better about that by now.”

Jungkook stops touching you all together and stands up. “Sorry. I forgot we established it as a noona kink and maybe some masochism. But there’s no way you actually enjoyed that or want to go through the humiliation again.” You ask seriously. Jungkook steps closer and looks you right in the eyes. “It’s nothing like that at all okay? Isn’t this how any normal man reacts to being alone with a woman he’s attracted to? You want me to act like a stone with you moaning like that? After the things we’ve done before?”

You’re surprised by his outburst. He’s never talked back like this before. The intensity burning in his gaze is unfairly hot. For once he doesn’t look like such an innocent sweet boy. He looks like a man and that’s just not right. He’s not allowed to look that way.

“I’m sorry for offending you Jungkook-ie. I was only teasing. No need to get all worked up.” You break the eye contact and sip your water. Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance. He knows you’re doing this to get a rise out of him. You’ve always got the upper hand on him. The way you called him Jungkook-ie in that mocking tone should annoy him the most but of course he loves it.

“Whatever. I just wish you wouldn’t treat me like some little kid. I’m a normal adult. Sorry I’m not up to your standards.” Jungkook huffs. “Cumming in your pants like a teenager sure doesn’t help your case much.” You know you’re plucking at sensitive strings but you can’t help yourself.

Jungkook can't believe you brought that up. Being a little tipsy in the comfort of your home has changed you. You're smiling and teasing him so much. Jungkook laughs and shakes his head. “I've had a lot of practice since then, Noona.” He purposely stresses the title. “I've heard plenty about your practice. Sounds like you had a lot of self practice before you got the real thing.”

Jungkook can feel his ears warming but manages to keep his eye contact. “Yes. I put your advice to good use. I told you I'm a fast learner.”

“Well practice makes perfect. Why don't you be a good boy and show me what you practiced.” You smile and set down your glass. Jungkook's brain short circuits. He must have imagined you saying that.

“Show- show you how I built my stamina?” He asks to be sure that's what you really want. “Yes. I want to see for myself how much you've improved. The teacher should grade the student.”

Jungkook stands there like a statue. What exactly do you want him to do? Should he drop his pants and start jacking off like that? Do you want to be touched at all?

You giggle watching the boy panic. “Poor Jungkook-ie. You need me to give you all the directions again? Why don't you start by getting into position for me? Come here and kneel on the rug by me.” You point at the spot just by your elbow.

Goodness knows why but, Jungkook obeys quickly. He knows he's going to regret this later. You reach your hand out and place it gently on his chest. All the alarm bells going off in his brain quiet once you're touching him. You run the back of your fingers up the center of his chest and stop at the top button. The button pops open with a practiced flick of your fingers.

"Tell me. Do you watch porn when you practice?" You ask. "No!" Jungkook whines. You smirk. "Then what do you think about?" His cheeks flush a little and he looks down to your hand smoothing down further. The second button goes just as easily. "I bet you thought about me didn't you? It's written all over your face. You could have easily thought of your girlfriends naked body but, you thought of me fully clothed getting you off in your pants." Jungkook blushes up to his ears.

"Be a dear and hand me that book will you?" The question is so jarring. Jungkook looks up and has to process what you asked. You're pointing to an old-looking leather bound book on the coffee table. "That one there."

Jungkook turns and hands it to you. He notices that something feels off about it. It doesn't feel solid and heavy like a book that thick should. You set it in your lap and look back to him. "Now be a good boy and take your bottoms off for me."

Jungkook feels a second round of whiplash. He doesn't move, only opens his mouth to ask about the book. "What's wrong? Got stage fright?" You tease. "No, just wh-" "Then do as your told." You interrupt and look at him pointedly.

The boy swallows and starts to undo his belt. He gets everything undone and realises there's no way he can get them off in this position. "Am I allowed to stand, your highness?" He quips. You narrow your eyes. "Don't you talk to me that way. You know how to address me properly."

If you didn't look so serious he would think you were teasing. He's ashamed to say he's a little frightened you'll tell him to leave. He's so weak for you. "Sorry Noona. May I stand?" Your face stays cold and serious. "No. For punishment you can just pull them down as far as they go and be uncomfortable."

He quickly follows your instructions. Pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees. It's just enough for his cock to be freed. Seeing it bare puts your earlier suspicions to rest. He's very well endowed. "Go ahead and show me your improvement."

The start is awkward for Jungkook. Sure he's kind of hard but how's he supposed to get in the mood with you just sitting there staring at him? He starts by running a shaking hand over his whole length then going into some light strokes. Once he starts a bit of a rhythm you reach for the book. With a pull on the sewn in bookmark the cover pops up a little. You open the lid and Jungkook now understands that it's a hollow book for storing things.

His curiosity gets the best of him and his hand has stopped. You give him a pointed look. "Nevermind what I'm doing. You just keep going." You stare at him until he gets back into his slow steady rhythm. There’s no pleasure in his touch now. Not when you’re watching him so intently and he’s so curious about what’s in the book.

Once you’re pleased enough with his actions you focus back on the book. “Since you thought about me while you practice, why don’t I give you something similar to look at.” Jungkook furrows his brow in confusion until you open the book. You pull out a massage wand just big enough to fit diagonally in the box. Beside it are a small stack of condoms and some lube.

The boys eyes go wide and his hand stops again. You tisk at this. “You’re really bad at listening today aren’t you?” Jungkook swallows hard but is still entranced by the toy in your hand. “I think you need a little punishment. Here put this on so you don’t make a mess.” With your other hand you toss a condom at his chest.

Jungkook tries to keep his hands from shaking as he fiddles with the little foil and rolls the rubber on. “Now I expect you to keep stroking yourself no matter what, until I tell you to stop or I’ll really have to punish you.”

The extra glide from the lubed surface of the condom finally makes this start to feel good for Jungkook. His brain goes on a tangent of how this could be a punishment. Where would you have let him finish before this? That train of thought is wiped as soon as the buzz from your toy starts up. It startles him a bit. His gaze snaps back to you.

At first you’re just holding the toy up, judging Jungkook’s initial reaction. His hand doesn’t stop this time so you get yourself comfortable. You bring the wand up to your neck and shoulders, using it for it’s more innocent purpose. You take your time giving your tense muscles a little massage.

Jungkook’s brain overthinks this too. Maybe you really do just use this as a body massager. Maybe his dirty mind automatically assumed it was for something else. No. Given the circumstances he’s sure it must be for other pleasures as well. You’re just teasing him as well. “I know how excited you get from massaging me. Does watching me do it give the same effect?” You tease. Yeah he’s sure you’re messing with him.

“I’d rather be giving it to you.” He quips. You smirk, pleased he can still play along. “Too bad you don’t deserve to. Your hands are quite talented.” From the corner of your eye you notice the stutter in Jungkook’s stroke. “I’ll just have to please myself until you learn some control.”

Without breaking eye contact you move the massager down to your breasts. You can barely feel it through your shirt and bra but it still feels nice. Jungkook’s eyes glance at your chest and come right back to your face. You smile. “You can look. That’s what I’m doing it for. I’m trying to make your practice as accurate as possible.” He looks back and forth between your breasts and your face before settling on the toy. He wishes he could see your breasts bare and jiggling from the vibrations. His cock twitches just from the thought.

You would love to take off your bra and get the full effect but that would be too much of a treat for the boy who doesn’t deserve it. Instead you turn the wand up one setting and take your time pressing it into any sore spots. You spend extra time on your nipples, feeling them peak into your bra. Jungkook won’t be able to see it through your clothes but, he does a fine job imagining it.

Once your breasts are nicely stimulated it’s time to move on. Jungkook watches intently as you move it down. You stop and rub it over the inside of your thighs. Goosebumps rise from how it tickles you. It takes a bit of readjusting but you keep moving down to massage your sore ankle. Jungkook doesn’t realize he huffs out a breath until you give him a questioning look.

After making sure that he’s still moving his hand you smirk and get back to your massage. The massager bumps a little too strong into the painful area. You wince and move it away quickly. “Careful, Noona.” Jungkook says softly, still not stopping his strokes. He’s looking much less fazed. That’s your cue to move on.

You bring the toy back up between your thighs and right to your center. There’s not much feeling through your tight skirt and underwear. You can just barely get it over the top of your slit. That’s just not going to do. You press your hardest for a minute or so, more to tease Jungkook. You give him a quick glance to make sure he’s watching you. His eyes are glued to the toy.

He gives the smallest whine when you click off the massager and set it down beside you. “Don’t you worry baby.” You chuckle. He’d be more upset at your teasing if he weren’t so drawn in by your fingertips pulling up the hem of your skirt. You stop just before the end of your butt and bring your hands under the fabric. With a little wiggling you adjust your panties to be more flush with your clit.

It’s not what Jungkook was hoping for, but once you turn the toy back on and tuck it underneath your skirt, he drops his disappointment. You hum at finally getting the vibrations right where you want them. One hand holds the toy handle and the other keeps your skirt in place.

You let your head fall back on the pillow behind you and close your eyes. It lets you concentrate on the feelings and sounds. You keep your ears perked to Jungkook’s sounds. His slightly uneven breathing, the slick slide of his hand over the rubber in an even rhythm, and the slight hum of your toy. They make it easy to lose yourself in the moment.

Jungkook doesn’t have to know that you’re imagining him using a vibe on himself. You’ll definitely have to add that when he gets better stamina. Well that is if you continue to do this, but you won’t. You can only imagine what you’d do to him if this became a regular thing but it won’t, it can’t. The wrongness of these encounters turns you on much more than it should. It’s dangerous how easily this man breaks your resolve.

Your clit throbs and without thinking you let out a small moan. Jungkook sucks in a breath and moans with you. Ready to scold him, you open your eyes to look at him. You’re caught off guard but how hot he looks. He’s flicking his wrist in earnest, the veins in his forearm standing out against his skin. Even his biceps are stretching the rolled up sleeves of his button down. What really throws you off is his intense stare. Knowing that he’s watching your face makes your cheeks redden. It’s difficult but you manage to keep eye contact with him.

“Are you close?” You try to keep your voice strong. “I could be. What about you?” Jungkook answers nearly as straight. You click your tongue at his attitude. “I could be.” You throw right back at him. “Noona, let me fuck you. It would be so much better for both of us.” Jungkook offers all too easily. You hate the shiver you get. It’s an incredibly tempting offer but that’s a line you do not want to cross with him. “I don’t think you deserve to touch me. Besides that’s not what this training is about.” You reply. “Isn’t it though? I thought the final point was that I could please a girl before finishing myself?” He argues. You hate that he makes a good point. “Such a brat. You definitely don’t deserve it. Just for that I want you to go faster. I think you’ve been holding back a little too much.” You command.

Jungkook wants to fight back but he knows he can’t. You’ll send him home still hard without feeling a bit of remorse. He obeys and moves his hand faster. A groan slips past his lips when you follow along and click the massager up one level. You move it down over your entrance a bit feeling how wet you’ve gotten. It brings up how empty you feel. It would be perfect if you had another toy to fill you up. Too bad you’ll have to do for now with bringing the vibe back to your clit. The increased speed brings you close much faster. You can tell it’s got the same effect on Jungkook. His breathing is heavy and stuttering. Every so often his strokes lose rhythm and he’s fighting not to moan or stop. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and furrows his brow.

“Don’t bite your lip. I want to hear you.” You tell him. He releases his lip with a soft moan. He’s afraid he’ll be crossing a line but this may be a chance to push you over the edge. “Fuck, Noona. I’m so close. You look so hot. I bet you’re so wet right now. Wish I could feel you.” Jungkook moans. His plan works. His words push you right before your peak. You hold long enough to let him off. “You bad boy. I’m close. Go ahead and finish with me.” You pant out and let yourself go. That familiar wave of warmth washes over you, enhanced greatly by the long moans Jungkook lets out as he spills into the condom.

The both of you take your time to come down from your highs. Out of spite and embarrassment you turn your arm to push the massager right to the sensitive tip of Jungkook’s cock. He shouts and tries to roll his hips away. “Sit still.” You scold. It’s difficult but he holds his cock up to the toy. He’s never felt anything like it. In no time he feels a second wave of cum spurting out in the longest orgasm he’s ever had. You’d really planned to push him through overstimulation to a second orgasm but the sound of your phone ringing surprises you both.

Instantly you click off the toy and grab the device. You look at the screen briefly before answering. “Hello?” “Y/N dear did I wake you?” Minwoo’s voice comes over the line. “No I’m still awake.” You answer and look at Jungkook. He’s still panting but sits pretty in position. “Good. Are you okay? Do you need my help? I’m almost home.” “Yes. I’d like some help getting ready for bed if you don’t mind.” Jungkook’s eyes widen in disbelief. There’s no way you just told Minwoo to come over. He starts to shift his weight to stand but you throw him a stern look and point for him to stay still. He must be crazy to obey. “Sure darling. I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.” Minwoo replies. “Sounds good. See you soon.” With that you both hang up.

“Sorry but it’s time to say goodnight. Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up.” You tell Jungkook. He sits there for a moment just in shock still of how you can break this off so easily. If he weren’t terrified of his boss finding him here like this he might have stayed and given you a piece of his mind. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. He feels pathetic, slowly getting to his feet, pulling off the filled condom, and wrapping it in a few tissues from the coffee table. He quickly gets himself cleaned up and redressed.

“You did pretty good. I can tell you’ve practiced. Keep it up.” Your praise is annoyingly good to hear. He doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. He only double checks his pockets for his phone and wallet. “See you Monday, Secretary. I hope you heal quickly.” He bows coldly and lets himself out. You think to yourself that this is exactly why you can keep playing with the boy. He’s smart enough to know his place. So many others would have tried to stay and fight about this or purposely waited for Minwoo to make an argument.

Not long after your doorbell rings and Minwoo is putting in the code to open your door. He kicks off his shoes and comes right over to you. “Hello pretty. Doing okay? What happened?” He shuffles the ice pack that you had tossed back on. “I’ll be fine. Just some stupid drunk pushed me off the side walk and made me twist my ankle.” Minwoo gently brushes over the still swollen skin.

“How did you get home?” “Jeon Jungkook carried me here.” Minwoo looks at you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Oh he did? That was very kind of him. I really owe him a dinner now.” You hum. “I suppose so. The others offered him up since he’s the only one who could carry me so far.”

“Still it was such a gentlemanly thing for him to do. I’ll have to thank him for taking care of the most important person in the company.” You smile and nod in response. Minwoo could very well be hinting at taking care of you in another way. “He was very attentive until I sent him home.”

“Well let’s get you up to the bedroom first. How does that sound?” “That would be nice.” Minwoo has you hold the ice pack. He comes to the side and puts his arms under you. In one smooth lift he picks you up to his chest and you wrap your arms around his neck. You feel much more at home in this pair of strong arms. The two of you share a smile while he carries you to the bedroom.

With steady careful moves he sets you on the edge of the bed. “Let’s get these work clothes off you first. You start on your blouse and I’ll help you with your skirt.” He reaches his hands around you to unzip it and you try your best to lift your hips for him to pull it off. You pull off your blouse and reach around to unhook your bra. Minwoo starts to slowly pull your panties down your hips but stops when he notices how soaked they are in the center. The wet fabric sticks completely to your core and he pushes a finger right at your entrance. You jump in surprise.

“My, my. What’s got you so wet like this darling?” He asks running his finger up and down. “I’m sorry. I was bad and played with myself while I was waiting for you.” You answer coyly. Minwoo usually has no problem with you pleasuring yourself unless he’s specifically told you not to. He looks you right in the eye as though trying to read if there’s more to it. “You must’ve been needy if you couldn’t wait for me.” “To be fair it started as a regular massage for my ankle.” That makes Minwoo laugh.

“Can’t help yourself can you? Naughty girl. Do you think you should get a punishment?” He asks. Your eyes widen a little. There’s that hidden meaning hanging in the air again, like he knows you’ve been bad. You nod slowly. “Well since you’ve already had your fun, how about if you let me get off and you don’t. I think that sounds fair don’t you?” You pout but still nod. “Yes, sir. I think that’s fair.”

Minwoo starts unbuttoning his own shirt quickly and undoing his belt. “Be a good girl and take those off for me.” He nods toward the panties still clinging to you. By the time you’ve carefully got them off he’s already stripped bare. He comes close and pulls your hips right to the edge of the bed.

With a gentle touch he lifts both your legs. “You need to keep your foot elevated. Can you hold your legs for me?” You follow his direction, tucking your hands behind your knees to hold them. His hands run back down the inside of your thighs right to their apex then slip off. In one swift motion he brings his right hand back up to smack over your clit. You jolt in surprise.

He watches just to be sure you stay in position before swatting his hand at you again. He gives a few more in quick succession a bit harder than the others. “Can you hear how wet you still are?” He asks rubbing his fingers to soothe the sting of the smacks then right down the middle. “Yes, sir.” You can clearly hear the wet sounds of his fingers.

“You’re only wet like this for me, right?” He asks and immediately pushes two fingers into your entrance. You moan out a yes. “That’s right it is.” Yes is what he wants to hear, but he knows it’s not the truth. You know he knows. You’re not sure how, but he does. So when he pulls his fingers out and gives your clit four more smacks you can’t complain. You both know you deserve it.

His touch disappears altogether but is soon replaced. With it gripped in his hand, he rubs the end of his cock over your slick cunt. “Be a good girl now and let me take what’s mine. Don’t you dare cum.” He commands lowly, teasing at your entrance. He waits for your reply of ‘yes, sir’ before pushing in.

He doesn’t give you time to enjoy the first feeling but does start slow. He takes his time stroking in and out slowly, fully enjoying your heat wrapped around him. You spread your legs a little wider to make room for him to lean forward. He breaths over one of your perked nipples but never actually touches. Only teases the touches your wish you could get.

Gradually he picks up the pace. He angles the thrust to hit just where it’s best for you every few times on purpose. Just enough to get you riled up. His lips ghost higher to just below your ear. “You’re lucky I’m too tired tonight for toys. I feel like I ought to leave you strapped to your vibrator for a while. Not sure why I get the feeling you deserve it.” He growls. You’re not sure what to say. He continues on in your silence.

“Maybe I’m just paranoid because you were alone again with that young intern? He’s such a nice young man. It’s a shame he’s taken such a liking to you.” You feel like he really means that. Jungkook is a good worker after all. “Do you wish this were him fucking you to bed? Hm?” “No. Of course not. Only you can touch me. I sent him away.” You pant.

Minwoo has it in mind to ask if you sent him away before or after you had your fun with him but he doesn’t. You could have very easily told him not to come tonight and besides your panties being wet you seemed untouched. “Yes you did. Good girl.” He kisses your neck softly then stands back up straight.

He replaces his hands for your on your legs. “You can touch yourself if you want as a reward, but you still can’t cum.” He offers. It’s a double edged sword. You know he actually means for you to touch yourself in some way to make this more difficult. As a middle ground you decide to play with your breasts.

Minwoo smirks and starts really pounding into in earnest. He’s hitting your spot more and more often and it’s driving you crazy. You try to get the most and the least pleasure out of playing with your nipples. It feels like forever before Minwoo’s thrusts start to falter. All of a sudden he pulls out completely and jacks himself off to completion all over your stomach. Your pussy throbs from the loss. To make it worse, Minwoo leaves the last bit of cum on the tip and rubs it into your clit.

He watches you squirm and moan. He’s got you right on the edge and pushing. Just when you think you might not hold it, he pulls away. It takes a ton of will power not to close your legs and rub them together. Your walls are fluttering in anticipation and tears are coming to your eyes in frustration. By the time you finally start to settle, Minwoo comes to wipe the cooling cum off of your stomach.

“You did good.” He kisses your forehead. It’s a poor consolation but you’re a good girl. You don’t whine or pout. You’re getting just what you deserve. “Let’s get you washed up for bed. Think you can handle that?” Minwoo asks getting ready to pick you up from the bed. “Yeah, especially if you wash me.” You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles. “Sure. I can do that.”

-E.최

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts smut #shinhwa fanfic #shinhwa smut #Shinhwa #minwoo scenario #minwoo #lee min woo #bangtan

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bangtanhoesworld · 6 years

Text

Master list

BTS

Reactions

Bts reaction to you moaning their name in your sleep (coming soon)

bts reaction to you breaking down in front of them (coming soon)

Bts reaction to you being in the hospital (coming soon)

Jin

Beautiful

Smut

Beautiful

Fluff

Angst

Yoongi

Smut

Do you trust me (in progress) (Kinky as FUCK)

I don’t want to leave you alone

Fluff

Music lessons (in progress)

Angst

Hoseok

Smut

Movie night (coming soon) (Watching a movie with Hoseok that turns into something a little more)

The park (coming soon) (exhibitionism)

Fluff

Angst

Namjoon

Smut

Obey me (coming soon) (Namjoon being very dominant)

Fluff

Angst

Jimin

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Taehyung

Smut

Harder

Fluff

Angst

Jungkook

Smut

Ties (Coming soon) (Tying up jungkook)

Fluff

Angst

Boyfriend

(may or may not be doing smut for them, but will do fluff for sure)

Donghyun

Fluff

Angst

Hyunseong

Fluff

Angst

Jeongmin

Fluff

Angst

Youngmin

Fluff

Angst

Kwangmin

Fluff

Angst

Minwoo

Fluff

Angst

Backpink

Jisoo

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Jennie

Smut

Mommy (Coming soon) (Jennie being a little dom)

Fluff

Angst

Rose

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Lisa

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Hyuna

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Reactions

Amber lui

Smut

Fluff

Borders (coming soon) (Amber being there supporting you throuhg some stuff)

Angst

Reactions

My bdsm test results (That I’ll be using in some future fanfics, so you know what to expect)

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kp0pc0urt · 6 years

Photo

All I wanna do is talk about this. 1) Shame on this website to put this article about 100%’s Minwoo’s passing as a sponsored ad. I can’t believe them. 2) The comments on this made me scream. Every person thought this was a BTS member. “He looks like Jin,” “I thought this Hope!,” and then my favorite “We saw at the AMAs how sad.” Yes that was me replying to the AMA comment. STOP BRINGING BTS INTO ANOTHER GROUPS MOURNING.

MY LORD. THE ARTICLE IS ALREADY THERE CLICK ON IT AND READ IT!

#kpop scenarios #kpop angst #100%#minwoo #sad #rip #kpop fandom #kpop news #kpop fluff #kpop smut

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muselin · 2 years

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finally I see someone +25 y.o talking about slightly younger ppl. i'm on my early 30s and always feel ashamed of myself when i think someone younger is attractive. how much of an age gap is ok for you? also, i'm a switch and i don't have daddy/mommy kinks, but if there's someone who can make me call him daddy is top of bigbang. i stan suju, leeteuk n hyukjae give me the chills, but none of them give me dom vibes enough. i'd mostly like to tie them down and make them whine bc of overstimulation.

To give you a reference, I'm the same age as Taemin.

I know what you mean lol, I had the biggest mental block when 4th gen kpop ramped up, i couldn't get over the hurdle in my head of the age gap. I have different "thresholds" for different things. I used to think it was weird to write smut for idols who were so much younger than me but i got over it. Look at all the smut I've written for TXT lol. I have a 9-year gap with their maknae line.

But it's okay, you know why? Cause Heechul dated Momo, and he is 13 years older than her. Shim Mina's husband on the other hand is 17 years younger than her. IU dated Kang Jiha who is 11 years older than her. The actress Han Hyejin married footballer Ki Sungyeong who is 8 years younger than her. Not to mention that in Korea it's definitely a THING for a guy to date a noona.

Age truly is just a number my friend. Especially if we're talking about good old straight up sex and not marriage.

TMI for my own age gaps:

1. Had sex with - 10 years older than me

2. Dated casually - 4 years older than me

3. Serious relationship - 3 years older than me

4. Made out with - idk, probably 3 years younger or more? We didn't get to know each other much lol

5. Felt attracted to IRL - probably 10 years younger than me? I see cute university freshmen all the time. Sue me.

T.O.P. definitely gives daddy vibes, I agree! And as much as I love SuJu, I agree that there don't seem to be any straight up dom vibes in there. My bias is Hyukjae btw, love him so much 💙

SuJu definitely have a bit of a Great Gatsby, forever-young kind of vibe. Personally I can't see them as daddies and I can't really see myself domming them either, I view them mostly as equals.

Now, Shinhwa definitely give me daddy vibes, absolutely. Minwoo, Dongwan and Eric especially.

#bigbang #bigbang hard hours #bigbang top #shinhwa #shinhwa hard hours #muselin shinhwa asks

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wangshurp · 3 years

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Lim Minwoo

@wgs_min FACECLAIM: Kim Jiwoong DATA DE NASCIMENTO E IDADE: 11 de fevereiro de 1998 / 23 anos. NACIONALIDADE: Coreia do Sul ETNIA: Coreano. GÊNERO: Masculino ORIENTAÇÃO SEXUAL: Bissexual ATIVIDADE: Atendente na Luk Yu Tea House LOCALIZAÇÃO: Sudo/Old Town TEMAS DE INTERESSE: Angst; Crack; Fluff; General; Romance; Smut. TRIGGERS: -

PERSONALIDADE: Geralmente Minwoo é sempre calmo, há poucas coisas que conseguem o tirar do sério. Porém, quando fica chateado ou irritado, acaba se afastando imediatamente. Conversar acaba não sendo uma opção pois fica tão imerso nos próprios sentimentos que escolhe se fechar e ficar em silêncio. Acaba se afastando da situação e só querendo resolver quando as coisas esfriam, criando uma parede de defesa, mas fora isso Minwoo é um ótimo amigo e um "cão fiel" que faria de tudo pela pessoa que ama, sendo romanticamente falando ou apenas na amizade.

JUSTIFICATIVA: O passado de Minwoo é recheado de pequenas decepções, desde pequeno sonhava com a vida nos palcos e por morar na grande Seoul, as oportunidades estavam bem ali. Acabou por fazer uma audição em uma empresa pouco conhecida com promessas enormes, Minwoo ficou feliz em ter passado com apenas 16 anos, iniciando assim uma vida de conciliação com o seu sonho e seus estudos. Claro que o garoto tinha um plano B, queria estudar música e ser produtor, tudo sempre envolvido com algo que tivesse melodia.

Minwoo nunca foi solitário, era consideravelmente popular na época de escola, era um rapaz atraente e com um humor diferenciado que sempre atraia pessoas por perto. Teve dois relacionamentos fracassados onde achava que eram os amores de sua vida e que ficariam juntos para sempre... Obviamente nunca foi o caso e Minwoo perdeu totalmente a vontade de engressar em outro relacionamento, por mais que sua vontade atual era contrária. Sempre teve uma boa relação com os pais e com sua irmã mais velha, esta que cuidou de si na maior parte de sua vida até que a mesma se mudasse para correr atrás dos próprios sonhos. Coincidentemente o rapaz seguiria os mesmos passos da irmã.

Entretanto, a carreira de Minwoo mal começou e sua estreia foi cancelada, fazendo com que desanimasse completamente e parcialmente desistisse do seu sonho. Precisou contar com o apoio dos amigos para que se encorajasse novamente e procurasse novos objetivos e ares, afinal precisava começar do zero.

PRESENTE: Minwoo se mudou para Wangshu, juntou todas as suas economias que obteve em seu trabalho de meio período em sua cidade natal para alugar um apartamento pequeno em Sudo, era um ambiente que se harmonizava com a própria personalidade. Adorava a estética antiga da cidade. Conseguiu um emprego como atendente na casa de chá de Luk Yu, era um ambiente calmo e poderia dizer "adocicado", sempre aprendia coisas novas e misturas de sabores, era como unir o útil ao agradável pois era um amante de chás. Havia conseguido a vaga por morar bem próximo dali, ficando satisfeito com a oportunidade pois sabia que não conseguiria um trabalho na área musical tão cedo.

Buscava conhecer pessoas novas para que renovasse seu ciclo social, por mais que prezasse pela própria companhia, adoraria ter alguém para compartilhar as coisas mais simples de seu dia a dia, por mais que ter um relacionamento de fato, não era de seu desejo. As idas e voltas do trabalho rendiam boas inspirações para que escrevesse e estudasse, a vista da cidade era repleta de detalhes bons para se colocar músicas.

Atualmente estudava sozinho quando chegava em casa, desejava entrar para alguma faculdade local mesmo sem pensar muito a fundo. A rotina era simples, afinal só fazia trabalhar e estudar. Vez ou outra se viciava em jogos que com certeza iriam lhe tirar a alma, mas era seu passatempo favorito visto que morava completamente sozinho e era um meio de também ter um pouco de contato social. Apesar disso, era feliz, gostava de novos desafios e esse novo começo prometia muitas coisas.

DESEJOS: Desejava ingressar em uma faculdade de música para que colocasse suas ideias para fora, como também adotar um gato que era uma vontade antiga que não o fazia por morar com os pais, agora sozinho poderia planejar uma companhia felina. Quem sabe se casar em um futuro não tão próximo, por mais que tivesse decidido de relacionamentos, ainda gostava da ideia de ter alguém ali consigo todos os dias. Deixando a parte romântica de lado, havia a vontade de explorar a cultura da Ilha e como também arranjar um emprego melhor remunerado em um futuro bem próximo.

#lim minwoo #kim jiwoong #masc #sudo

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joonyverse · 4 years

Text

residency troubles - kim namjoon (bts)

Summary: You were a resident in her 3rd year at a prestigious hospital, who happened to be the daughter of the director of said hospital, and had a little bit dark past. Professor Kim was a neurosurgeon, who came to the States, but decided to come back, and work for the hospital you were at. And then one occurrence lead to another.

Warning: abusive parent figure, family problems, violence, minor character’s death, childhood trauma, infidelity, light smut scene (not reader’s), grammar mistakes, incorrect medical terms, failing english

word count: 10.8K

kim namjoon x f! readers

doctor!au

Sound of ECG being the only sound that you could register, amidst the layers of yells being thrown at you, or your surrounding. The rapid sound the machine made, indicating how the person on the bed was unstable. Having been pushed aside, you could only watch, not knowing what to do anymore. You saw the doctor giving the patient CPR, sweats running down his face, as he fight for the life that literally depending on his hand. You could only wish miracle upon the sky.

But then, just like how the sky granted your wishes, the ECG sound was back to normal. Heart rate continue to beat stable, and gradually getting steady. The doctor stepped aside, before he wipes the precipitation on his face, from the energy he spent trying to save a life. He glare into your way. His glare was cold. Shivers running down your spine. It’s like a bucket of cold water had been poured over you. You gulped down, and quietly follow him into a space where no patients were in vicinity.

This was the calm before the storm.

“Are you even a doctor?” He asked. His voice was cold and distant. It feels like the alcohol swab that you use before getting pricked by a needle.

You looked down, only able to stare at your feet. You knew it was your fault. Your fault here could be someone else’s life being endangered. And you should have known better. It’s not like it was your first year. And you acted like a complete intern.

“I’m sorry doc, it won’t happen again” you said.

“Yeah, because when you did it again, a patient would die!” He yelled the last part at your face. You flinched a little bit at the sudden raise of voice.

“I’m sorry doc” you said, your voice sounds even more inaudible if it was even possible.

“God y.n, you’re fucking clumsy! How could you even get into residency? I wonder… Daddy’s money?” He said in a belittling voice.

You gulped down. You want to fight back, but you can’t. His aura was way too overbearing and powerful for you to beat.

“You can’t do a single thing right! Nothing! You keep making rookie mistakes!” He yelled. “That patient, he was allergic to your prescription, and he could have DIED! But no, you ignore the chart, and act like a know it all!” He yelled once again. And you took it like a big girl, holding your tears in. Was it because of the yell? Or was it because you almost cost someone’s life? You didn’t know anymore.

“Fix it, another one rookie mistake, and you are over” he reprimanded before he left you alone with your thoughts.

You solemnly walk towards the office room, sitting on your reserved desk. You lean back into the back of the arm chair. You let out a sigh, feeling like a heavy burden in your chest was lifted. You quickly wiped your tears that threatened to fall. You shook your head.

“That was stupid mistake” you mumble to yourself. “You were an idiot pretending to be a know it all” you continued,

Your train of thoughts were being cut off as the sound of door opening filling the room. You looked towards the source of disturbance, seeing your friend who was in a no better shape walking in. Just like you, she plopped onto her armchair, energy drained from her soul.

She rolled her armchair towards yours. She put her hand into her scrubs pocket as she fished for something. She pulled out a banana milk and handed it towards you. You take it with a grumble, signing that you indeed need some sugar right now,

“God, you’re still here?” Jiwoo asked as she take a sip of her strawberry milk.

You nodded with a pout on your face as you took a sip of the banana milk Jiwoo so kindly gave. “Professor Park needs me to do some errand last night so I couldn’t go home, and then when I knew it, it’s already morning! And then there plenty of emergency cases I need to handle, and then… Doctor Yoo yelled at me” you said. Your voice was solemn. Your eyes were looking down. Exhaustion was evident in your demeanour alone.

“Is it because of Minwoo? The seven year old kid?” Jiwoo asked to which you responded with a nod.

Jiwoo suddenly bend down to look at your face better. “God, I was damn tired, and then I see your face and I immediately feel better” she said.

You looked up, you gave her a cheeky smile. “Why? Because I’m a doctor and I’m pretty?” You said as you put your palm into a flower pose.

Jiwoo scrunched her nose. “No, because it looks so apparent you just got dragged into hell and your eyebags are competing with pandas’” she said. “Just go home y.n, it’s not even healthy anymore” she added.

“I can’t, I’m going to assist Professor Park’s surgery, and maybe after that, I’ll be able to go home” you said, your frown became more apparent.

Jiwoo got up from her seat before she gave you a pat on your head. “Good luck, and I better not see you here after my surgery is over!” She said.

“Whose surgery are you assisting?” You asked before she walked out.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Professor Lee’s.”

Sound of ECG once again rang through your ears. It’s drumming inside your very being to the point you swore you can hear it in your silence mind. The tension was high inside this operation room. Your heart was drumming inside your chest.

“Suction” Professor Park asked, You quietly handed him the suction.

You prayed to all Gods above that this too shall be saved. He deserves another life. You knew that better than anyone here. Well maybe, other than Professor Park himself. God, he was just seven year old, there’s so many things he needs to see, he needs to be, and you want to save him more than anything else.

“Professor, he’s losing a lot of blood, he’s unstable” the anaesthesiologist said.

You can see Professor Park’s brows furrowed, as he was getting even more focused if that was even possible. You saw him getting even more frustrated but he keep composed.

Suddenly the heart rate picks up. Your head snapped towards the ECG, like an instinct. “Professor-“

“I know, y.n, I know” he cut you off. You can feel his frustration and desperation in his voice. You grew antsy and anxious. And yet you held it in. You might get kicked out if you show signs of such things and that’d be the least thing you want.

You can see that the anaesthesiologist getting even more anxious. And that really didn’t help you calm down in any way. You knew this was bad. When the professor did all the right thing, but the patient keeps being unstable, you knew this was bad. You knew Professor Park done all the best he could, and yet you knew the boy wasn’t going to make it. In fact, everyone in the room knew that. But everyone, gave their best till the very end.

Until the sound of flat line hit your ear drums.

You grew motionless.

But Professor Park wasn’t one to give up. He kept trying to revive the kid. Wanting to give him the last chance he could get.

But the universe wants him back. They love him more.

And so you watch as the kid lay there on his death bed, motionless, no heart activity. Everyone in the room hung their heads low. Everyone tried their best, but fate says it’s time for him to go.

It’s the thought that the kid was so young. So fragile. So small in this big world. So many for him to explore… and they took that away from him.

“Time of death, 12th of May 2020, 10:25” Professor Park announced.

The operation room was solemn. And you quietly close him up. You move your emotion aside, as you carefully close him up, not wanting him to hurting despite his inability to feel.

As soon as you were out of the room, you were walking like a corpse, too many thoughts went pass your head. And yet you can’t think of a specific one. You should have gotten used to patients’ death, and yet you don’t. Every each one still hits you hard. Watching someone’s life depended on you and yet they still losing grasp, it’s always hurts, it’s always feel you’ve failed them each time, despite you knowing that there’s nothing you can do.

You walk back towards your office. Your head hung low. Tears were brimming in your eyes. Your chest was heavy and painful. The kid deserves so much more. And it hits you like brick. You don’t even want to imagine how the mother must be feeling if you were feeling this way. Memories of how you played around with him, laugh with him, giving him encouragements and comforts, as he went through his time in the hospital, flashes by you. You wiped the tears that had fallen down as you continue to made your way back into your office to pack and clocked out.

You entered the passcode into your digital lock, your emotion and energy were as drained as ever. You sighed as you entered your apartment. You threw your bag carelessly as you walked into your kitchen. You reached for a glass to pour yourself some water. The water did somewhat its work on soothing your heart that was in agony. But you were tired. You want nothing but to sobs into your pillow.

You looked into the couch in the living room. Your boyfriend’s shirt was there, and you for a moment wonder. The weather was cold and your boyfriend… felt hot?

Suspicion immediately filling your head. You brace yourself for whatever behind the door of your shared bedroom. You brace yourself for another heartbreak.

And then you heard it,

“Seokjin, please don’t stop- ah- fuck, please don’t stop!” A girl, who certainly wasn’t you cried out.

You were beyond mortified. Your eyes widened. You were disgusted beyond anything as you very well know what’s going on behind the door.

You opened the door roughly, it bang to the frame. You saw them, on your bed. Your Bed. Your boyfriend on top of her, having his balls deep into her. You were hurt, betrayed, but most of all, you were livid. You were furious above all.

But both of them wasn’t any better. They both looked at you, flustered, that you caught them red handed. You scoffed at the sight.

“I should have expected that” you said. Your voice was rather calm. But anyone who heard that, and see how you shook on your ground, knows that this was the calm before the storm.

You saw your boyfriend moved to reach out to you. The girl beneath him whimpered as he moved. You immediately feel waves of disgusts all over your body, drowning you in it.

“Just fucking finished your thing, and pack your things after that” you said before you step out of the room, not bothering to even close the door.

Seokjin finally pulled out and stepped onto the floor, racing towards you.

He grabbed a hold of your hand that you roughly tossed.

“You are filthy, so please don’t touch me” you said, your voice who usually full of warmness for him, now cold and full of venom.

Seokjin knew he messed up. He never sees you like this, but then again there was a first for everything. You were usually cheerful, bubbly, your voice held such warmth that makes anyone that come across you wants to be by you all the time, no doubt.

“Please listen-“

“Listen to what Kim Seokjin? I saw it all! You were spared on the need to explain!” You yelled. Your composure was failing and you don’t have the intention to keep it.

He stayed silent, he knew there was nothing to explain, when you saw it all. And you knew that too.

“Just fucking go okay? Spare me from the pain, I’ve had enough for today, and it’s barely midday! I already have a poor kid died on me only to go home to see my boyfriend fucking his other lover, so please just go” you said as you took a seat on your couch. Your arms were over your eyes, you wanted nothing but to cry… and cry even more.

Seokjin was concerned above all. He was your friend at some point. He knew how hard you took patients’ death, and he clearly was the cherry on top.

He slowly made his way back to fix his mess before them both leave you alone, in your misery and tears.

A month had passed since then. Everything moved so fast when you focused solely on work and nothing else. Jiwoo would call you a horse for working day and night, not letting anything getting in your way. You keep shoving your nose up the job, working like a robot would do, that even Professor Park teased you for being one.

Your days would be fill of helping Professor Park handling the patients. Giving commands to the fellow residents that was below your year. Running from one hall to another. Death was almost become something numbing to you. Almost.

And yet everyday, people around you keep reminding you that you were human first before anything else. You worked hard, wanting to be recognised for your hard work and your hard work only. You forgot to have fun, Jiwoo said.

It’s not easy. To be the daughter of the director of the hospital itself. Everyone think that you are able to get your place because of your connection. Because daddy is paying everyone’s pay-check. And so you worked hard everyday, trying to prove yourself, that you deserving of your place there.

How can people accuse you of such things when your dad was trying so hard to forget about you when it comes down to family…

Jiwoo would stop you everyday from working yourself over the limit. So does Professor Park. They would both stopped you from taking everyone’s shift, from staying at the hospital any longer than you’re supposed to.

But it’s hard to convince you when you’re so set on something.

It was lunch time. Both you and Jiwoo use it to quickly get some lunch before any calls can get to you both. Especially when the cafeteria is serving your favourite curry that day. Jiwoo would secretly convince the chefs there to just make curry everyday so you would leave your work and eat more enthusiastically, but of course she wasn’t able to convince them.

You were enjoying the curry to your heart content. It’s the littlest thing like this that reminds you that you were indeed human above all, as dramatic as it sounds. Jiwoo watched you with amusement.

“I tried so hard to be a good friend, and you still choose curry over me” Jiwoo said in fake annoyance. She playfully stab the potato in anger.

You swallowed your food with a smile on your face, as you looked up at her. “Curry heals my heart Jiwoo, this is not just any curry, this is magical curry” you said In a teasing manner which caused Jiwoo to scoffed.

And then suddenly Jiwoo sat straighter, fixing her posture. Her eyes widening. Seeming more tense than before. You slowed your eating pace in confusion. Your eyes scanning your surrounding, which seemingly collectively has their focus on one point.

You turned your head towards said point. Your eyes squinting, your brain going into even more confusion than before. You even scratch your eyes repeatedly to make sure that your eyes aren’t playing you, and yet the sight still was as shocking as ever.

Your ever, so arrogant, and what the workers would say, intimidating, father was there. In the cafeteria. That you swore he would swear he would never touch, not even the ground. You almost throw your curry at him if it was possible.

There was a man beside him. A handsome and young looking one. He was tall, his brown hair slicked back. He looked as clean as ever. A glasses sitting on top of his nose bridge. He looks smart, brilliant even. Well he must be, seeing him walking side by side with the director of the prestigious hospital. To sum it up, he was the finest man you’ve ever seen to walk in this hospital, he was a sight to see for sore eyes.

But you quickly shook the thought out of your head. You quickly turning back towards your food. As you see from your peripheral view that everyone around you, including Jiwoo stood from their seat to give them a bow before they sat back down. And suddenly the cafeteria was somewhat quieter than before. You hated it.

“What an asshole” you muttered under your breathe. You then felt a kick on your foot. You looked up towards Jiwoo who was still standing, and now her eyes are spatting curses at you.

“What?” You mouthed in annoyance.

“Stand up” Jiwoo mouthed back before she kicked your foot once again. You rolled your eyes and give in to her request.

You turned around. You saw that your father and the man beside him… and whoever walked along with them have their focus on you. You suspected that it was because your father was staring at you, wanting the respect he deemed to be deserving. You sighed and gave them a half hearted bow before you sat back down and continue to eat your food. You felt bad because you didn’t mean to be rude to anyone but your father.

That was until suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder, that stopped you from eating. The cold but yet so familiar touch on your shoulder. You sighed and turned your head towards the intruder of your meal.

“This is y.n, my daughter, she is a resident here, she worked for Professor Park, your friend right?” Your father said, smile was on his face. But you know so well this was the smile he uses on someone he’s trying to impresses.

“Ah yes, he is my friend… Jimin” The handsome young man said with a smile. His voice was so deep, you swore you could drawn in it.

“Y.n, this is Professor Kim, a neurosurgeon from the States! He’ll be working with us, greet him” Your father said with a smile ever so radiant, you almost puke.

You faked a smile back at him, playing your good daughter card on. Jiwoo looked at the both of you nervously.

“Nice to meet you, I’m y.n, a resident in the general surgery department” you introduced yourself, with a smile more genuine at Professor Kim.

Your father patted your shoulder again. “Right, good, about our dinner later tonight, y.n, I hope you’ll be able to make it” your father said to the both of you. “You have no shift tonight, right y.n?” you father asked.

“No sir, y.n is free for tonight” Jiwoo cut in before you were able to say a word out of your mouth, “I’ll make sure she’ll make it on time” she added.

You mentally slapped your forehead. And god you thought you couldn’t loathe the situation any further.

“Right, thank you Jiwoo” your father said to Jiwoo before he walked away.

You threw your spoon lightly on the table once they’re out of sight. You sighed in full annoyance now. “Why would you do that?!” You whisper-yelled at Jiwoo.

Jiwoo gave you a cheeky smile in return. You really wish you could get angry at her really. “So miss y.l.n here won’t work herself to death, and able to dine in with the most handsome and smartest man ever to walk in this earth” Jiwoo said, her smile was faking innocence.

You gasped, feeling scandalous, feeling like Jiwoo had just seen you naked, seen through you. “Jiwoo!” You gasped.

“What? It’s true! I can swear upon my life you were ogling the professor! Undressing him straight with your eyes!” She said between laughter, as she accused you.

You whined at her. “Oh come on! I was not okay!” You said, threatening to throw your spoon towards her head.

“Oh come on! My girl deserves to have some fun and love too!” Jiwoo teased. And then she suddenly lean in and looked you straight in the eyes. “Especially with the neurosurgeon professor that’s known for being so smart, is popular at the States, handsome, deep voice, and your father trying to impress” she said, her voice was loud enough only to be heard by you.

Your eyes widened, it’s almost like you got possessed and suddenly the picture of the professor being said infiltrated your mind. Him standing there, looking so fine, with his smile and dimples. But before your thought can get any further, a loud voice cut you off from your training thought.

“You guys are seemingly having fun! Without me! I don’t like it!” Jimin said, shocking both you and Jiwoo, before he sat down beside you.

“Professor, y.n here is going to go out on a date!” Jiwoo said before laughter making its way once again to her.

“A date?!” Jimin shrieked. “My god, finally you blessed this desert with some water to survive from! Y.n is going on a date!” He said.

You now physically slapped your forehead. You can see some people gave your table a stare for a second before going back to eat again.

“How can it be a date when, one, I just met him today, and two, the dinner has my father in the variable” you grumbled before you roughly stabbed a potato and fed it into your mouth.

“Wait… does it mean… it’s Namjoon?!” Jimin once again, leaning closer towards you. Your eyes widened once again. Who now?

“Professor Kim! Kim Namjoon!” Jimin said, after seeing the confusion in your face. You shrieked at the name, almost jumped in to cover his mouth. You don’t want another rumour surrounding you. Now you remember that Professor Kim had mentioned Jimin as his friend before.

“Oh my god, y.n, I swear he’s nice! And he’s single… well as far as I know, but I can totally introduce you to him!” Jimin said with so much enthusiasm, people would think he’s the one that’s going to be introduced to someone.

“You know what? I’m done eating lunch, Jiwoo, Jimin, you can chat, but I’m going now” You said in a flustered state, causing Jiwoo to teased you even further.

The clock shows 5pm. Everyone around you is hurrying you to go home, put some makeup on, and clean up. It was mostly Jiwoo who urged you to do so, she even go as the length of promising to drive you there and back. Jimin even told you to clock out as soon as you can. You swore you would rather spent more time in the operating room then go through the dinner. You whined in protest, but what can you do when it’s you versus everyone?

And so there you were, finding yourself rummaging through your wardrobe that you’ve been so long abandoned ever since you start pulling lots of night shift. That you don’t bother to touch ever since you opted to watch Netflix at home is more fun than going out for some fun Friday nights.

You ended up choosing a formal white dress. It fits prettily on you and just right, accentuate your features so nicely. You chose a baby pink Saint Laurent purse to go with it, knowing it looks cute and beside, you haven’t use it in forever. A pair of black rockstud caged pump from Valentino completing your outfit of the night. You applied some light makeup too. You had to admit that it was somewhat a personal satisfactory and pleasure to clean up like this, something that you haven’t done in so long.

As soon as you stepped out of your room into the living room, Jiwoo who was waiting there had her eyes on you, mouth agape. You rubbed your sides instinctually, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

“Does it looks weird? God it’s been so long since I did this, I maybe forgot my touch-“

“Cut the nonsense! You look as stunning as ever!” Jiwoo said as she approached you. You gave her a thankful smile.

“You know how much I hate going to a dinner, god, I’m only doing this for you” you said to her as you both walked towards her car that was parked in the basement.

“Girl, you’re going to thank me once you start getting some” Jiwoo said, a teasing smile on her face.

~~~

A car ride later, you found yourself standing by the entrance of this fancy Italian restaurant. You gulped down, wanting to turn back and secretly catch a cab and go back home. It’s not that you are nervous, you just hate to be in the same room as your father. Let alone eat on the same table.

You just hoped nothing will gone awry. And that means you have to control your emotion, keep it at the bay.

The last time you ate with your father, it was… horrible to say the least. You ended the night with your blood pressure as high as ever, food shattered on the ground, his wife crying and begging for you both to stop, your half-brother is smirking at the situation.

With a reassuring sigh, you braved yourself and enter the restaurant, bracing anything that might come at you,

You gave your name to the waitress, before being escort to the private section of the restaurant. She carefully and delicately open the ebony wood door, revealing the occupants inside. You saw a table for five, there sat your father, his wife, or rather, your stepmother, and your half-brother

Your father sat at the centre of the table. His wife sat on his right, her son sitting beside her. You saw that the seat beside you was still empty. The seat was probably for Professor Kim you figured.. Not long before you enter the room, Professor Kim arrived following suit, seemingly a little bit out of breath.

You tapped on his shoulder, making him look at you. You smiled at him, chuckling inside at his seemingly in-hurry state. “Are you okay?” You asked him softly.

Professor Kim took a big gasp of air before answering you. “Yep, all fine” he said with a smile, his dimples appeared once again, as deep as ever.

You both entered the room. And you saw how your father’s smile lit up once again. You almost rolled your eyes at the situation. If any people see this, they would have thought that this was some ordinary family dinner. Maybe even Professor Kim thought so. But your so called family know that this all business matter.

The waitress took your order as soon as you and Professor Kim sat down. You ordered a truffle cream pasta for yourself, meanwhile he ordered an Aglio Olio for him, both of you opting for some ice tea for the beverage.

Your father cut into the steak that had been served before him as he arrived sooner than both of you. The professor beside you cut the silence by apologising, “I’m sorry, I’m a little bit late, I had a patient that need to be look out for in urgent” he said.

“It’s okay, he wouldn’t mind Professor Kim” you said before your father even said a word. You can feel your father was giving you a glare as in ‘Behave’, but it’s not like you’re going to care about any of his words nor actions.

“Please, just call me Namjoon, I’m more comfortable that way” Namjoon said to everyone in the room. “I am still young after all, just a little bit older than y.n here” he said. You had to admit, it seems like he did his research beforehand, as he knew how old you were. Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, you wondered if Jimin told him some things about you.

“You are a polite kid, a smart one on top of that, and I’ve heard your activity in non-profit organisations Namjoon, you’re just a complete package aren’t your?” Your father’s wife said, a giggle followed after her words. You shook your head in silent.

“Ah… I’m not ma’am” Namjoon said, looking flustered. You can only imagine. The man was looking so red you almost felt bad. But then again, you saw his features, and you realised, the man was deserving of every compliments he got. A handsome man, with good personality? God you were somewhat hoping he’d be single. But you continue to eat your food in silence.

Your family continue to chat with Namjoon even after the table being emptied. You stayed silent, not wanting to say a word, not wanting to cause a fight, too tired of it or to do it. But you can see from under the table that Namjoon’s legs were fidgeting, like he’s trying to say something but don’t know how. And then you faintly heard it, the buzzing from his trousers’ pocket. You realised that this might be a medical call. And so you decided to save him and utter a word.

“I’m sorry father, Namjoon and I have to go back to the hospital right now” you said, standing up, not before nudging Namjoon, signalling for him to do so too.

Your father looked towards Namjoon, his head tilted a little bit. “Is that so? You should go then, your patients are important” your father said.

And it seems like Namjoon had read the situation too. He gave your father a quick nod and bow. “I’ll get going then sir” he said, before you both headed out of the room.

As soon as you’re both out of the room, Namjoon quickly answered his call. You saw him tensed up, which meaning that it is an urgent situation, and he was probably needed as soon as possible. Before even you could even say a word, he walked in fast pace before turning into a light run towards his car, still on call.

You sighed and shook your head. At least the dinner didn’t go as bad as you thought it will.

The next morning, you went to the office just like usual. Your outfit were so casual just like usual, in contrast to what you wore last night. Jiwoo shook her head after hearing the uneventful dinner when she drove you home. And of course as soon as you arrived in the hospital, the first thing Jimin asked you was about your dinner, to which you answered as it is. Jimin huffed in response, just like Jiwoo.

It was one of those time where you get a room to breathe, after finishing a surgery. You were left alone in the office. You turn your head around, relieving the knots on your shoulder. You were sipping the warm coffee that you bought at the cafe downstairs when someone knock on your office before opening it. The door revealing a man that oh so familiar.

“Hey, what’s up?” You greeted with a smile that looks rather tired.

Upon seeing you, Namjoon proceed to enter the room, a relief smile on his face. “You were here!” He said, taking a seat next to you.

You chuckled at his words. “You weren’t here to see me” you said.

Namjoon lowered his head and chuckle along with you, being caught in action. “Well, I was searching for Jimin but he wasn’t here, and I found you instead” he shrugged.

“Hey! Seeing me is also a good thing okay!” You complained playfully. You made a fist and hit his side arm in a playful manner.

Namjoon pretended like you had hit him with the strength of a fighter which caused you to whine. “Come on! I didn’t hit you that hard!” You said.

“You bruised my ego!” He retaliated, which caused both of you to laugh. “Did you just finish a surgery?” He asked.

You nodded at him, a pout made its way onto your lips without you even noticing, a habit you didn’t notice you had. “I am” you said.

Namjoon stares at you, his eyes were unreadable, but honest to god, you were rather scared of trying to find out on what was his eyes were saying, and so you ignore it.

“Poor y.n, must be tiring right?” He said, in a tone that seemingly babying you. He suddenly put his hands on your shoulders and lightly massage them. You froze for a second upon feeling his palm on your shoulder, before you relax into his hold.

“What will poor father says if he saw his favourite neurosurgeon is giving a massage to a mere resident…” you said, your voice shaky from the massage.

Namjoon laughed at your words. “Oh come on! You are not just a mere resident” he said.

You gave him a smirk and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, a resident who happened to be the director of the hospital’s daughter” you added in.

Namjoon tensed, you can feel it on his hold, before he let go of you. Truth be told, you were rather disappointed that he let go, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, you were missing his warmth now that it feels somewhat cold without his touch.

“That’s not what I-“

“Namjoon? I’m just joking” you quick to assured with a smile.

Suddenly Namjoon turn his whole body at you, looking you dead serious right in your eyes, making you nervous in some way. “I mean it y.n, you are talented, Jimin told me a lot of good things about you, and I know you are a hard worker, and I’m not saying this because you are my boss’ daughter” he explained. “It’s because you care about the patients dearly, and you are a hard worker” he added.

You swore to god you teared up right there right then. For the first time in your medical career, it’s the first time anyone, beside Jimin or Jiwoo, praising you. Not because they want something from you, but they acknowledge you for who you are. You quickly shook the tears off, not wanting to be emotional. “Oh come on! This is unfair, you made me cry” you said jokingly.

“Your father must be proud of you” Namjoon said, unknowingly.

You chuckled bitterly. “I don’t expect much from him” you mutter under your breathe, hoping he wouldn’t caught it. You quickly stood from your seat, giving him a reassuring smile. “Gotta go though, Jimin is having a conference soon” you said.

Namjoon gave you a smile before he stood up too. He suddenly grabbed your hand, making you look back at him, stopping you dead on your track.

“Thank you for last night, you saved my patient”

It was another day. Just another uneventful day. Or so you thought. The yawn that you held for so long can’t help but came out of your mouth. Along with it, a drop of tear trickle down your cheek. Your eyes trained on the computer monitor before you. Your head heavy with thoughts.

The door to the office suddenly opened, making you looked up from the computer. In your head, you were groaning at the stiffness your body was experiencing. “Can I help you?” You asked to the visitor.

A familiar person walked into the room, creating a beam on your face, from ear to ear. Well to be exact, it’s more of what they brought.

“Jimin! My life saviour!” You squealed as you jumped from your seat. Jimin gave you a playful smile in return, while humming to a cheery tune. You immediately dragged your armchair onto the table that was set in the middle of the office, meant for meeting, and well, meals. Jimin took a seat at the centre of the table, while you took one beside him.

“God, it’s chinese?! You really know how to impress a woman don’t you?” You said as you grab a chopsticks and set your food in front of you, knowing that Jimin already know what your order was.

“Well, aren’t you my hardworking resident? Who unfortunately still pull an all-nighter and-“ “Stop with that! Won’t you?” You complained playfully to him. “I really restrain myself from taking night shift you know that!” You added.

“I know, but look at you, I can bet you haven’t gone home since last night” he said before he took a bite of his food.

You froze on your seat. The sense of time really had went out of your head. In your head, your hair is probably the big sign of it, looking like a whole bird nest. Your supposedly tidy pony tail, now so many strands had gone loose. “God, I didn’t know that” you sighed.

Jimin gave you a glare in responded, as in saying “How could you not know?”. His phone suddenly dinged, and so he took it from his pocket, looking at the notification. “Y.n, you don’t mind another company, do you?” Jimin suddenly asked.

You were having a bite of your food, so you really didn’t pay attention to his words. You wordlessly nodded at him, to engrossed on your food.

The door to the office once again opened. And yet you paid no attention, your hunger took over you. In your mind, you think that it’s probably Jiwoo, or well another surgeon. Another surgeon other than Jimin having a meal with you both wasn’t a new thing anyway.

“I’m sorry, I had an unscheduled appointment” A familiar deep honey-laced voice said. You stopped chewing, your eyes widened. You sat a little bit straighter, but not brave enough to look up.

“It’s okay, you’re not late, I just have a bite of my food” Jimin said. You can see from your peripheral view that Jimin was staring at you with a teasing glare, his mouth formed a smirk. “But y.n here… she seemingly hasn’t eat since yesterday” Jimin huffed playfully.

Namjoon chuckled before he took a seat beside you. You gulped down your food, before staring at Jimin with a warning glare. “I’m so sorry you had to see me like this” you said to Namjoon who was arranging his food.

“Y.n, you’re talking like as if I don’t see you at that Italian restaurant, gulping down the food like as if you want to escape so badly” He said before he had a bite.

“Well, in a way, I kinda do actually, but don’t get me wrong, it was not because of you, like at all” You said after gulping down another bite of your food, After talking, you grabbed a bite once again. Maybe you were too focused on your food, or too focus trying to ignore the nervousness in your heart, but when Namjoon stopped to stare at you, with a fond smile on his face, you surely didn’t notice.

He almost chuckled, seeing you eat like there’s no tomorrow, like as if you stopped, someone would steal your food away from you. He looked at you with so much amusement and fondness. Your hair was everywhere, and he was a little bit worried it might bet into your mouth. He carefully reach his hand out towards you. His fingers gently reached for the loose strands that disturbing your eating and might be a little bit itchy on your face. He carefully tuck them behind your ears.

His fingertips touching your ears got you shivering down your spine. You froze on your eating, but seems like Namjoon didn’t notice that, too enticed by you. You weren’t brave enough to turn your head around. No, you weren’t. You don’t know what you should be expecting.

“Your hair was in the way” Namjoon said, his voice was gentle, almost inaudible, but loud enough for you to hear.

“T-thank you” you stuttered. In that moment, you braved yourself enough to turn your head at him. But what you saw, god you could swear your heart wasn’t prepare for it. Namjoon was smiling at you, his smile was just… something that you were more than sure was a gift from God. His dimples were evident. And truth to god, your heart was beating so fast you were sure the whole room can hear it.

Namjoon chuckled before he turn to his food once again, eating it. And everything went back to normal. By normal here you meant, Jimin and Namjoon were chatting about what they’re both missing when they were away. You silently listening in. And yet your heart was still beating loud, your head still full of the thought of him. If Jimin noticed, you were glad he said nothing.

And at one point, it seems like your name was mentioned, which was caught your attention back to the room. “I’m sorry?” You said.

“I just told Namjoon how you haven’t gone back home, and I think that you should go home now, and Namjoon will drive you home” Jimin said nonchalantly.

“Oh come on, you act like this is my first time doing this, I’ll be fine staying in the hospital a couple more hours, and beside I’m still reviewing-“ “A doctor also need lots of rest, y.n” Namjoon cut in.

“But-“

“No buts, pack your bag, you’re going home” Jimin said as he stood up. He immediately went to clean up the table, insisting on you to prepare to go home instead, which earned him a scowl from you.

The car ride to home was fill with you both getting to know each other. How you both grew up. Though you still hide so many, you just told him the enough amount of it, well maybe to the part of your father and you don’t have a really good relationship, but that was all. Namjoon told you how he grew up, how he ended up going to the States before deciding to go back here. You had a feeling that he too was hiding something, but maybe, only time will be able to tell.

“I’m so sorry for troubling you” you said when you’ve finally arrived. a frown on your face, as you felt bad for doing this to him.

“It’s okay, I don’t live far from you anyway, I’m just a building away” he said, with a smile on his face, that you grew to fond of now.

“Thank you for the ride, Namjoon” you thanked him, a smile made its way onto your face.

“I enjoy this, let’s do it another time, y.n”

And somehow it becomes an everyday thing for you and Namjoon to go home together. Some days it’d be you driving, and some with him driving. People would have caught the sudden closeness you gain. Maybe some questioning it, but if they do, nothing has been caught by your ears so far.

It’s rather beneficial really for the both of you. Sometimes Namjoon would come over, and you both would put Netflix on and binge watch some documentaries there. Or sometimes, when things just went awful, or when you have something to celebrate, you both would go out for a drink, get drunk, and call a designated driver. Some days, you both would go on a dinner, when work got too hectic and left you both barely room for breathe. Or sometimes, you both would go to watch a movie that you both have been waiting for its release.

It was one of those days. Where things are just… hard. Nothing is going in your way. You got yelled by a doctor, and even Jimin expressed his disappointment. Jimin was someone who barely disappointed with you, knowing you more than anyone else here. And when Jimin got disappointed, it means you really did something messed up.

Not only that, a patient’s condition was worsened, her kidney was failing on her, and she was just a teenager. And so far, there wasn’t any available donor.

You were walking through the hall when a conversation caught your attention. You can’t help but listening into their conversation. Well, how can you resist when said conversation involving your name being mentioned. It supposedly come as no surprise that people would gossiping about you, and yet, despite knowing better, continue to listen what on they have to say.

“I just don’t get what Professor Kim saw in her, like she’s just a spoiled brat!” A nurse said.

“Are they even dating?”

“No way, I bet they are close because well her father or maybe her want favour” “I bet she actually likes him, but he’s just being too nice”

And that’s it. You had enough. You shook your head in disbelief. Even after years, and your obvious showing of your dislike towards your father, everyone still think you are daddy’s little girl. All things accumulated inside you. You felt so stuffed inside. You had enough. You quickly approached the familiar office, knowing he would be there. You knocked on his door, just in case he has someone inside.

“Come in” Namjoon said from behind the door,

You carefully opened the door. You saw the sight of a woman, seemingly around you or Namjoon’s age. You were more than sure she was the most beautiful woman that you’ve ever seen in your life. Her red lipstick matching her skin tone, like as if it was made specifically for her. The pencil skirt she wore cladding on her skin so perfectly, accentuating her figure. Her aura was almost overwhelming.

“Ah… You have a patient? I’ll come back later than” you said in apologetic tone.

She was staring at you, a smirk on her face. “Oh? Namjoon really didn’t tell anyone about who am I, did he?” She said, her voice was taunting.

You said nothing, being put in an awkward situation. “I’m sorry, I’ll go out” you excused before you close the door again.

But you did not miss it.

You did not miss the last sentence she said, right before you close the door.

“Namjoon, I love you still”

~~~

God and here you thought your day couldn’t get any worse. You really now felt like you were drowning in an ocean of negativity. You don’t know why, and you don’t want to know, but you felt a pang in your heart. You felt your throat constricting. You felt something that you haven’t felt in so long it almost scared you.

You just wanted to be home as soon as possible. Maybe get some drink, and hoping Namjoon would listen to your worries, like he always did. You strut your way back to your office, not caring about your expression anymore, too tired to control it. You can feel the tears of frustration brimming in your eyes, they burn. But still you paid no mind to it.

Especially when a text came.

From [Namjoon]: Sorry, cant go home now, I’ll see you tomorrow

And tomorrow came. If you thought it was any better, well it wasn’t. Not when your father’s secretary suddenly knocked at your door when you were preparing for breakfast. Sunghyun, your father’s secretary, was a rather nice man, and he acted as the messenger between your father and you. Sometimes you felt bad for it.

“What now, Sunghyun?” You sighed, as you see him by your door. “Come in, I made some pancakes” you said while opening your door a little bit wider for him to come.

“No need to, I’ll be quick, your father wants you to be at the Min Corporation gala. It’s well… for fundraising, but your father can’t attend it, and your brother is overseas” he said.

You sighed. If you hate your father, well you hate the galas more than anything. The free food and champagne is an advantage, but the mingling and fake smile for hours was not your cup of tea.

“You know the answer, it’s a no from me” you said before you rolled your eyes.

“And you know the answer from your father, he doesn’t take no, I’ll be going then” Sunghyun said. “And oh! Don’t forget to bring a date, I think your father wants someone in particular and you know who” he added, before he really left you standing by the door

You really don’t know how to break it to Namjoon that your father wants him to go for a gala, and with you on top of that. You can tell him that it’s a work order, but maybe somewhere deep down inside you, you want it to be something more. Beside, you don’t want him to feel obligated to attend.

But you were rather surprised, and rather pleasantly when he easily accepted it. Now, he become your only reason to feel excited about the damn gala. You can already picture the look you were going for tonight.

And with that in thought, you went to the gala with heart giddy. He promised to meet with you at the venue as he had an appointment right before it. You can’t help but let your mind wander on how he would look with a tux on. Your heart beats faster at the thought.

You stepped off your car, and everyone’s eyes are instantly at you. Your hair was set onto a bridal up-do, your off-shoulder emerald gown looking so glamour under the lights, making you look like you stepped out of fairytales, your Saint Laurent pumps accentuating your legs, and your Gucci purse completing the look.

But as minutes pass by from the assigned time, you grew anxious. You tapped on your feet. You were standing at the corner of the room, anxiously waiting for Namjoon. Your eyes keep searching for his figure, wanting nothing but to be with him. And it doesn’t help when you spot your ex, and by god you regret that, cause he caught your stare and was walking towards your way.

A vibrate on your phone making you looked down towards it. A text appeared in the notification bubble.

From [Namjoon]: I’m sorry, I think I’ll be late, Idk if I can make it, but I’ll try, I’m so sorry

You sighed. Disappointment filling your being. You now wasn’t in the mood for anything at all. You wanted nothing but to go home now, and maybe just watch another documentary like you always do.

“Lonely tonight, are we?” Seokjin, who was now standing beside you, asked.

“Shut up, get away from me” you said.

“Why are you not mingling? Are you craving for a beating from your dad?”

“I told you to shut up, didn’t I?”

Seokjin chuckled at you. “It’s a pity, you could have just joined me, and if we were still together, you might be having a good time instead of a really suck time” he said, his eyes were mocking you.

“Who said I was alone? My date is a busy doctor, someone who actually works, not just riding on daddy’s fame” you said, your tone was full of malice.

But Seokjin just smirked. He was rather entertained by your action and behaviour. He suddenly leaned in, and whispered to you. “Or maybe, Namjoon is just busy with a certain woman” he whispered. His voice indicating that he indeed knows something.

You shook your head in disbelief. You were angry. Angry at everything. Angry that you let your ex who cheated on you to get to you. Angry that you were losing your composure. Angry that Namjoon lied to you. And that was your breaking point. You didn’t care anymore. You immediately pushed Seokjin away from you harshly.

“Fuck off, Seokjin” you said before you exited the ballroom, back towards your car.

You were just sad. Sad that just why Namjoon would lie to you, why can’t he just say it to your face that he doesn’t want to go with you.

Your face was as emotionless as ever when you come to work the next day. You were more than ready to accept your father’s wrath. And truth be told, you just want to get it over and done with. You can’t wait to go over it, cry a little bit, and maybe then the tension inside you that’s been building will go away.

And by god, you don’t want to face Namjoon today. You avoided him all day, not at all making your way towards his hallway. If Jimin and Jiwoo noticed, they didn’t said anything. But they were rather worried. Because you haven’t said a single word to them. You weren’t letting anyone come close to you. You kept silently doing your job and anything Jimin tells you to.

And then it comes. It was rather funny really your encounter. You were walking towards your office when Sunghyun was walking to your office too.

“Ah, y.n, I was looking for you” Sunghyun said.

You sighed. “Father wants to see me?” You asked.

Sunghyun nodded in pity, as he felt bad for you. You sighed, accepting your fate, knowing you can’t deny it. You rather face him in the office rather than letting him step onto the comfort of your own home. And so with heavy steps, you walked towards your father’s office, embracing the fact that a fiery wrath is waiting for you.

And just like what you were expecting, when you entered the room, your father was there. He was sitting behind his desk. You lowered your head, waiting for the storm to come.

He was looking at you, from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. His stare was icy cold, something that supposedly you were used at. But not when you can’t help it. Not when you are afraid, knowing very well on what’s about to come. For something that had happened ever since your childhood days. And you can only gaze at the golf club by his desk in fear.

He stood up from his seat. He wasn’t that tall, but you feel small beneath his overpowering gaze. And you feel like you were the 8 years old girl all over again, who was cowering in fear, as her toy accidentally knocked over a fine china. And there he stood, in front of you, just like the old times. You can feel the panic attack start coming over to you.

And then, just like the lightning strike, his hand came fast and hard and land onto your cheek. Your palm immediately went to the burning cheek, grasping it in pain, for sure it would turn red. And then he kicked your shin, making you buckle onto the ground, feeling smaller than you were already.

And he reached for the golf club. At this point, your tears can’t be contained any longer. It fell down onto your cheek. Sobs came out of your mouth, asking for him to stop, but he, just like always, let your words be muffled by his own anger. And just like how his hand, the golf club too now was hitting at your figure, hard, so hard the pain caused you to cry even more. And yet he has no mercy. Not until his anger dissipated.

“How. Dare. You. Ashamed. Me. In. Front. Of. Senator Kim’s. Son. And. Leave. The. Gala?!” He said, with so much anger in his voice, every words for every hit. No doubt purple bruises are now painting your body

“I’m sorry, please stop, please” you sob and pleaded.

And it feels like god answered your prayer, because he stopped. He let out a sigh like as if the tension had left him, and now you were left with so much trauma, so much memories of your childhood came back into you, as you continue to cry more into the floor.

“You really won’t get my words won’t you?” he said with so much anger despite the calm tone.

“Now get out” he said coldly, before he strut back towards his chair.

You quickly get up from the floor. Your steps were shaky as you reached for the door. But as soon as you were out of the room, you run towards your office. You can feel your chest tightening, your throat constricting, as your eyes continue to pour more tears from it.

You immediately went into the comfort of your office, closing the door rather harshly. You lean onto the door and let out gasps of breathe, not really aware of your surrounding. You grasp on your chest, trying to gather some air to breathe on.

When suddenly you felt a figure coming right onto you. Your eyes were wide open. You recognised Namjoon, looking at you, with so much concern and worry in his eyes. You let yourself breakdown, as more sobs coming out of you. Namjoon took a hold of your body as you fell onto the floor.

“You’re okay here, you’re safe” Namjoon said, trying to comfort you. He saw how you look very much disturbed. He saw the angry red print on your cheek. He saw the purple bruises that now is visible as it’s forming on your collarbone and forearm that were revealed. He may have an idea on who might had done this.

“It’s okay, you’re safe here y.n…” he comforted even more, letting you calm down in his hug.

Minutes passed by, and you were much calmer now. And Namjoon not even a second letting go of you, and for that you were so thankful for. He held you in his arms, that now felt so secure and safe for you. It felt like with him here, you have nothing to be afraid of, that he will chase everything off.

“Thank you” you muttered. You nuzzle your cheek into his chest, not wanting to let go of him.

“I need to check your bruises” He said.

“It’ll be fine”

“No, you’re not, talk to me” Namjoon said, his voice stern. He can’t help but feel anger building inside him, a fuming anger, towards whoever did this to you.

And you noticed that. The deep frown in his face says it all. His eyes can’t hide the unadulterated rage behind it.

“Namjoon, I’m okay, I’m fine” you said, reassuring him. Namjoon’s eyes look back at yours. You stare right onto his, wanting to assure him that all is fine now.

“You’re not y.n, you were crying, you were hurt, I swear to god whoever did this-“ You grabbed a hold of his face, you cradle his face onto your palms. “I’m okay hey, I’m here” you said, assuring him. “I’m just glad you are here with me” you said giving him a small smile, despite the lingering fear still left behind in you.

“Is it your father?” He whispered, his voice was so careful, as if he was afraid you would break.

You looked down and nodded. “But it’s okay, I’m used to it okay” you said.

And god, that was even more horror to him. No one should be used to such abusive treatment. “God y.n, that- that doesn’t make it any better” he said, his voice was so quiet, and yet you know he was having so many emotions going on inside his heart.

“I’m going to confront him about this, I’m going to beat him-“

His words were cut off. Of course it was. Maybe it was the spur of the moment, maybe it was something that you’ve been wanting to do for so long and now it finally reaching its tipping point. Maybe it was because he wouldn’t stop worrying, but you did it. You put your lips onto his, cutting him off of his word.

Namjoon was surprised. His eyes were widened, when he realised you were kissing him. Your eyes were close tightly. He held you tighter in his arms, as he reciprocate this kiss.

You both let go for oxygen need. A smile on both of your face. You felt rather shy now, and a little bit afraid. “I’m sorry” you apologised. Your eyes were still trained on your thighs, avoiding his.

Namjoon looked down at you who was till in his arms. He smiled softly, the familiar fondness come back into him as he saw your shy demeanour. A flower bloomed in his heart. “For what?” He asked, a teasing smile was now on his face.

“You know what” you muttered.

“I appreciate the apologise” he said, making you looked up at him. “But I love it, so I’m going to do it again” he said before he kissed you once again. You can’t help but smile into the kiss. Happiness and love replacing the feeling in your heart.

But then, the woman popped up into your mind, making you let go.

“W-wait” you said before you let go. “But I don’t want to be in the middle of unfinished business” you said. “Or well that’s what Seokjin hinted…” you muttered.

It seems like Namjoon caught on what you meant. And he gave you a smile… and for some reason you were scared to find out the meaning behind it. “We have nothing going on, for so long now” he said.

You tilted your head at him in confusion, needing more explanation.

“She’s my ex, we almost got engaged, and then I found out, so I break it off, and then she tried to come to me again” he explained.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a rebound” you said, your voice stern.

Namjoon pet your hair, his smile once again appeared. “Yes, I am, I wouldn’t kiss you if it was otherwise, and I chose this over any possibilities” he said,

“And… I’m sorry for not… appearing last night, I had a patient, code blue” he apologised, his voice was so sincere.

You pouted at the memory of last night, not wanting to remember it any longer. “It sucked so bad, I dressed up so well, and for nothing” you huffed. “But if you give me more kisses, maybe I’ll think about forgiving you” you said, as you pretend to think about it very seriously.

Namjoon grabbed a hold of your hand before he gave you a peck on your lips. “I’ll up your request to something better” another peck “What if I take you out on a date?” And another peck.

You beamed at him, giving him even more pecks all over his face. “Okay, tonight then, and I want to go to that new ice cream parlour” you said before you got up and went out of your office, going back to work

The alarm on your phone rang so loud, it able to woke you up from your sweet dream. You groggily reached for your phone and turn it off. Peaceful silence once away fill your bedroom. You then went back to nuzzle into the embrace of your boyfriend. One of his arm was circling around your waist, hugging you tight to him. He softly groaned from beside you, being the victim of your loud alarm as well.

“Good morning” you greeted, a small smile on your face. “As much as I’d rather be cuddling, we have to go to work” you said.

“Why don’t we just skip work, and have the day all to ourselves?” He suggested playfully. You hit his chest as a scolding.

“Come on, get up Professor, we need to work and tend our patients” you said as you attempted to get up.

But Namjoon had other things in mind. He pulled you back into him, trapping you between his arms, as his upper body hovering over you. He pulled you into a kiss, that you were more than happpy to reciprocate. “We will, but for now, I will have my girlfriend all to myself first” he muttered between kisses.

You smiled into the kiss. His silly words bring a smile onto your morning that usually fill with frown. “You’re lucky I love you” you said, which he hummed in respond as an agreement.

You were both all tangled up in bed, hands on each other, not wanting to leave each other behind. Jimin and Jiwoo would call you both clingy. How could you not when you both worked at the same hospital, sometimes you sleep at his and sometimes him at yours. And yet, you still both longed for each other when you’re away from each other.

But really, there’s no place you’d rather be than in his arms, and him in yours.

a/n: AAA IM BACK, THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE DSJKHF i’m watching Hospital Playlist nowadays, so this was inspired by the drama hehe, I hope u guys like it ;-;;; tbh when i made this, i have the look namjoon delivered during MOTS 7 press conference aksjh. Also to anon, I know this takes so long but I’m currently writing your request! Also everyone! Pls stay at home and keep your hygiene!

#bts imagine #bts #kpop #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kim namjoon #rm #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst

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