#reader x stray kids

[scoupsofjisung]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ texting bang chan happy father’s day (best dad of 7 kids fr)

🧸 paring: bang chan x f! reader

🧸 warnings: mentioned implied possible pregnancy as part of a joke, brushed past v quickly

🧸 author rambles: i’m just having fun at this point guys, and i have the most schoolgirl crush on chan thus my urge to flirt with him and threaten everyone and anyone for him. maybe surprisingly, gift giving is my lowest love language, however it’s an easy way to show u care fr. go pick a flower from outside and give it to someone u love asap 🫵

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blog info post!

#i love chan and i love his kids and I want chan to know how much he is loved #is that too much to ask #edit from 10 days after posting: HOW DID SO MANY PEOPLE FIND THIS POST LMAOOO????? love you guys #HOW DID THIS HIT 1K NOTES WHAT THE HYECK :00000 #scoupsofjisung #bang chan #bahng chan #Christopher bang #Chris bang #christopher bahng #chan #chris bahng #bang chan x reader #reader x bang chan #reader x chan #chan x reader #skz #stray kids #reader x stray kids #stray kids x reader #reader x skz #skz x reader #texting fic #text fic #fanfic #fanfiction #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction

[feelbokkie]

🍂Autumn Mornings🍂

genre: angst, all hurt no comfort

pov: 2nd person

description: you fear your boyfriend has fallen out of love with you

pairing: Minho x reader

warnings: swearing

word count: 1,996

☁️Seasons of Love Masterlist☁️

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You can’t remember the last time Minho kissed you the first time he saw you. Before, he'd kiss you the second you woke up beside him in bed. And when he came to your apartment. And when you went to his dorm. It had gotten to the point where he'd come to your apartment and hunt you down to kiss you before he did anything else. You lost count of how many times he came over while you were in the bathroom and stood outside the door, waiting to kiss you. He would always wake up first and wait for you to wake up before he planted one right on you before your eyes were fully open.

And then one day he just…stopped. You brushed it off the first few times it happened. That his mind has been preoccupied with work or he had a tiring day. But days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and it dawned on you that something had changed. You were aforethought before. The first thing on his mind when he woke up and who he wanted to come to. You're just an afterthought now. The final task on his to-do list that he keeps putting off in the back of his mind. And some days, he forgot about kissing you altogether. The overall feeling leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and a gut feeling in the core of your stomach.

Even now, as you sit on your bed, watching him get ready in the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, the yellow bathroom light partly illuminating the room. You woke up 20 minutes ago and watched as Minho got ready for work. He mumbled a quick 'good morning' as he grabbed some of his clothes out of the drawer. You miss the days when he would purposely move recklessly around the room on days he had woken up a bit later and would be late for work. You mentally curse yourself for getting mad at him in those moments for waking you up. Your heart aching at the thought that he might never do it again.

The bathroom light flips off and Minho emerges from the bathroom. His hair, which is still damp from the shower he took earlier, is tucked messily in a beanie. A few strands of damp hair use stick to his forehead. In normal circumstances, you’d fix his hair for him, making him take off the hat so his hair properly dries. Run your hand through his soft, damp hair and breathe in his scent mixed with his shampoo, body wash, and cologne before pressing your lips into his for your second kiss of the morning. But these aren’t normal circumstances stances, so you leave his hair be and his soft, pink lips untouched, and your heart aching.

You watch quietly, sitting up and leaning your head against the headboard of your bed, as Minho finishes getting ready and leaves your room without so much as looking in your direction. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach as you take a deep breath. You hear a muffled curse come from outside your room before Minho quickly walks back into the room. He quickly kneels on the bed and lightly brushes his lips against your cheek. So softly, you're not sure if his lips actually touched your face. You turn your head almost instinctively, waiting for him to kiss you again, this time on your lips. His eyes shift you your lips and stay there, like he's thinking about something—hesitating even. He would always kiss you twice, once on the cheek and once on the mouth before whispering "That should hold me until I see you later." You shut your eyes, mentally cursing yourself. He hasn't done that in weeks, just like every other habit you've grown accustomed to.

"I'll see you when I get back from work," Minho's eyes finally meet your eyes, "Love you,"

"I love you too," You whisper back. He gives you a small smile and nods. Like he's checked off everything in whatever fucked up to-do list he has in his head before leaving the room again. You sit quietly again, processing everything that just happened as Minho stumbles around your apartment. After a few minutes, you hear the front door close. And just like that, you are an afterthought again.

🍂🍂🍂

"Did you mean it when you said you loved me?" You ask MInho when he walks back into your room after brushing his teeth.

He's been home for a few hours but the gut-wrenching pain that you've been feeling for a while has been eating at you all day after he told you he loves you this morning. Because he didn't technically say it.

It's funny how one little pronoun can change the whole meaning of a phrase. Minho said "love you" to your face before he left. Not "I love you," but "love you." He omitted the "I." The possessive. No longer claiming ownership over his love for you. Like the feeling no longer exists for him. He loves you, yes but he no longer loves you. Not in the way that matters. Not in the way that you want—no need him to.

"What? You know I do. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't. You know that." He says as he climbs into bed next to you.

He's already changed into his pajamas and clipped his hair out of his face for the night. His face is moisturized and his body is still warm from the hot shower he took. Part of you feels bad for starting this up with him now. It's too late for him to go back to the dorm now if it does turn into an argument. You wanted to bring it up earlier, but he was so tired from work. And then it was dinner time and you knew that if you got into a fight he wouldn't have eaten for the rest of the day and he probably hadn't eaten since breakfast. And then after dinner, he helped you wash the dishes and it still didn't feel right. But the pain in your chest and your stomach will not allow you to spend one more sleepless night without talking about it so it has to be now.

"You did this morning," You sit up straighter, if that is even possible, and turn to face Minho. His face screwed in confusion. His eyes look up as if he's trying to search for the memory of this morning in the pack of his head literally.

"No, I said it this morning and I meant it." He said firmly.

"Now you know how to use 'I.'" You mutter under your breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," You whisper. You're not sure if you actually want to get into it with him right now. You're scared of what might happen.

"Y/n, I had a really long day at work and I'm tired. I'm not a mind reader and I don't want to play games with you. If you have something to say, spit it out." He says quickly, now getting annoyed.

"You didn't say 'I love you' this morning." You reveal.

"Yes, I did," He snaps.

"No," You turn your body fully towards him, " you didn't. You said, "love you.' Not, 'I love you,' but 'love you.'"

"That's the same thing."

"No, it isn't."

"Y/n," He sighs and throws his head back, "it's one word."

"It's the word. It holds all the power. Without it, everything else is just...words. No passion or truth behind them."

"You're being ridiculous." He scoffs.

"No, I'm not. It's not just the 'I' in 'I love you.' You don't kiss me anymore. Not in the morning, not when you come home. Never."

"I kissed you this morning."

"That was barely a kiss. I'm not even sure your lips even touched my cheek."

"Again, you're being ridiculous. Let's—"

"No!" You shout, your hands balling into fists and your heart pounding in your ears. Hot tears prick the back of your eyes, threatening to fall.

"Y/n—"

"I'm not being ridiculous! Something is wrong and I've been trying to fix it but I'm the only one in this relationship who seems to care that it's broken. And, if there's anything I did to push you away or there's another p-person then I need to know—"

"There's nobody else and you didn't do anything to push me away," He says quickly, trying to calm you down. He places a hand on your shoulder. It's the first real touch you've felt from him in months. It's sincere—familiar. Like home. That's all it takes to push your tears past the dam.

"Then why don't you love me anymore?" You can't help but shout. Your emotions are all over the place now.

"I don't know," He says quietly. You almost didn't hear him past the pounding in your ears. Or maybe, you didn't want to hear him. Because he didn't deny not loving you anymore. He admitted it.

"You...you don't know?" You say just as softly, your voice as tiny as you feel right now. All the anger immediately leaves your body. The pounding in your ears and chest gets louder and more rapid as you sit on your bed, staring at Minho.

He doesn't love you anymore

"I..." His eyes meet yours. They're glossy and red as he tries not to cry himself. He's at a loss for words looking at your tear-stained face.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Your voice cracks. Your voice is so low you're not entirely sure any noise came out.

"I just don't know," He sighs. His head drops and he removes his hand, leaving your shoulder cold.

"What...Why...Did I..." You stumble around trying to find words, unsure how to function in this situation.

"I promise you didn't do anything. This is all me. I woke up one day and the feelings were just...not there. But I tried—Believe me, I fucking tried because I know deep down somewhere I still love you. I just can't—"

"How long?" You're not sure why you're asking him, you already know the answer. Maybe your brain just needs to hear him say it.

"I—I don't know,"

"What do you know?" You spit out. Anger is slowly returning to your body and filling in the spaces that were left hollow by your heart being ripped out of your chest.

"I know that I can't keep lying to you anymore. That I can't keep faking it hoping to feel the way I did about you again. I tried—I've been trying."

He does not love you anymore. He never will.

"I..." Your mind is blank, unable to process what's happening and your emotions all at once. Your chest is heavy, anger, sadness, confusion, pain— a whole cocktail of emotions flooding your lungs making it impossible to breathe.

"But I don't want to break up. Maybe...maybe if we just take a break—" Minho lifts his head. Tears are falling down his face. He knows he hurt you. He's been trying to avoid this for months for this exact reason. If only he was able to quietly fall back in love, then all of this could have been avoided. He tries to take your hands into his but you quickly pull away, his touch feeling like a surge of electricity course through your body. And not in the way that would have immediately send butterflies to your stomach. No, this time it's painful.

"Don't...just don't," Your voice breaks again.

"Y/n, I'm sorry," He says softly and you know he means it.

"I...I—I need some air." You quickly leave the room, the emotions in your chest becoming unbearable. You can't breathe. Your worst nightmare is coming true and you can't fucking breathe.

He doesn't love you anymore

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[yeonzzzn]

🎙chasing you: lee know / bang chan

pairing: lee know x afab!reader x bang chan word count: 1.3k

synopsis: you couldn’t believe you got hired as an intern at your favorite radio show. While hoping to learn the do’s and dont’s of being a radio personality, you start to fall for both of your bosses…

genre: radio show host!au, non-idol!au, love triangle, smut

warnings: will be given on each part ♡

intro | one | two | three

You wiped your sweaty hands on the fabric of your skirt, repeating the same words over and over in your head, “Just walk in idiot!! What are you so afraid of?” But the truth of it was that you were afraid of everything and anything that could go wrong. 

The sole fact that you were even standing outside the building terrified you. You kept checking the address on the crumpled-up piece of paper, and sure enough, this was obviously the right place no matter how many times you rechecked it. 

A week ago you sat on the corner of your bed, listening to your favorite radio show: Stray Days. You couldn’t help but smile and giggle at the radio personality hosts and the jokes and stories they would tell. There were two of them: Christopher Bang and Lee Minho. 

It was just any other normal day listening to their show when the boys announced they were looking for a third host. You jumped at the opportunity and applied on their website, not even thinking you’d be lucky enough to get the job. 

But here you are, your luck finding its way to you as you stand in front of the building they record and work in. 

You were surprised when you got the email yesterday morning saying you got the job and would start as an intern today. You were up all night choosing your outfit. 

You decided to go with your favorite black skirt, white and black striped long-sleeve shirt tucked into the skirt, white high-top converse, and black knee-high socks. Your hair was curled and gently pulled behind your ears. It was an amazing look, your best friend Han even agreed. 

Whipping out your phone from your tote bag, you dial his number, and pick up not even a second later. 

“You better be calling me from inside that building, Y/N.”

Before you could even speak a word, Han was already speaking again. 

“Y/N, dammit I can literally hear the wind on your in. You haven’t gone inside yet?!” 

You sighed, “Hannie I’m terrified! What if I fuck up and they hate me?”

“Impossible,” he reassured you, “They are going to LOVE you! I promise. Y/N, girl, you literally fit all the requirements for the job. You’re funny, talented, have an amazing storytelling voice and you’re so creative. Stop doubting yourself and get your ass inside that building before you are late!” 

Han’s words were enough to encourage you to walk inside. To push open the door and stroll in like you deserved to be here. 

But once the door closed behind you, that confidence left. 

“Holy fuck, Hannie.”

You could practically hear the confusion in his voice, “Yes?”

“I’m inside and now I’m scared again.”

“Oh my fuck, I’m hanging up.” 

“No!! Han!”

And the line went dead. 

You cursed him for leaving you but decided maybe it was best to find where you were supposed to go before you were late. 

The hall at the end opened up to a lobby, a receptionist sat at the desk typing away at her computer. 

You walked up, once again wiping the sweat forming on your hands. 

She notices you right away, “Welcome in! You must be Y/N, correct?” she said with a smile. 

You nodded, “Yes, that’s me!” 

“Perfect!” She stood up from the chair, pointing you over to the elevator, “Mr. Chan and Lee are waiting for you on the third floor. If the sign is red, do not walk into the studio.”

You once again nodded, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, call me Jihyo!”

You gave her a soft smile, thanked her again, and made your way to the elevator. 

Once inside, you pressed the button for the third floor. A few seconds later, the short ride ended. 

You stepped out of the elevator. Reality hits you like a truck. Holy fuck, you’re actually here. You’ve dreamt about being a radio personality. You even joined the broadcasting club in high school. So now that you’re standing in an actual recording studio sent chills down your spine and your heart wanted to leap out of your chest. 

There was a small hall that turned into the studio, and the red “on-air” sign was lit up. 

A muscular guy sat at the control desk, moving the dials on the soundboard, adjusting the sound coming from inside the recording room. 

You slowly walked up, seeing Christopher Bang and Lee Minho themselves. They sat across from each other, laughing together, papers in hand that you assumed were the scripts. 

The guy at the desk turned around, removing one of the earmuffs off his head, and turned back around, “You must be the new girl.”

“Yes.” You softly spoke.

“The guys are almost done, they are wrapping up the last bit and will be out to greet you.” 

You nodded, the nerves setting in even more. 

“Changbin.” 

His words snapped you out of your daze, “I’m sorry?”

“Changbin. I’m the tech guy, nice to meet you.” 

You’ve heard his name plenty of times from the guys. They always talk about how great of a tech guy he was for them. Sometimes even make jokes and tease him while on air knowing he can’t do anything about it.

Even though Changbin looks like he would fold them out in less than ten seconds alone. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s very nice meeting you as well, Changbin.” 

Changbin held up his hand, folding each finger down until one remained then switched the sign off. 

Christopher and Minho stood from the chairs, setting their headsets neatly on the table. 

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, watching closely as the two men who have inspired you to continue your dreams, walked out of the recording studio. 

They high fives Changbin, before they stopped in front of you. 

You could have sworn they could see how fast your heart was beating, ready to burst open from your chest. 

All you could do was stare at them, they were two gorgeously hot men, who happened to be your bosses. 

“You must be Y/N,” Christopher’s thick Aussie accent said with a wide smile, “welcome to our studio.” 

You nodded, “Thank you for giving me this chance, Mr. Bang and Mr. Lee.”

They both chuckled. You tilted your head in confusion, did you say something wrong?

“We don’t go with Mr, around here,” Minho said, reaching out for your hand, “Call me Minho.” His bunny smile warms your heart, calming whatever nerves that were once there. 

You smiled at him, “Thank you, Minho.” 

Christopher cleared his throat, gaining your attention, “You may call me by my name or even Chan, whichever you prefer.”

Chan stared down at Minho’s hand still connected with yours, his brows raising.

You pulled away from Minho, a small laugh escaping his lips. 

“Now, for the next couple weeks we will train you the basics of being a host,” Chan started, “Changbin will also train you how to properly use the boards and when to switch the volume for the sounds.”

You nodded, “When will I be ready to be in the booth with you both?” 

Chan took a step closer to you, your body frozen in place as you stared up at him, “You will have a couple of practice sessions with both of us. There will be a point system, if you reach all the points, you will start being on-air with us.” 

Minho leaned down closer to you, his bunny smile even wider than before, “Not to mention if you don’t meet our expectations, you will be removed and we will find another host.” 

You glanced back and forth between them, smirks dancing on their faces. 

Little did you know the challenges you would face over the next few weeks, but also the way the two would grab your heart. 

---

A/N: hello! This is my first ever multi-part imagination! I have been racking my brain on this idea for a couple of weeks now and couldn’t for the life of me decide who would fit better for this. In the end, I decided the two I kept switching back and forth for (they also are both my bias and my bias wreck, so this fic just was perfect for what I’m imagining) I hope you guys enjoy this and look forward to the spice to come! As of right now, this image has three parts, but I will add more if it’s needed for the story to end. enjoy!♡

#channie #leeknowuknow #stray kids #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz fanfiction #skz scenarios #bang chan x reader #reader x bang chan #lee know x reader #reader x lee know #skz x reader #reader x stray kids #bang chan #lee minho #yeonzzzn writing

[ahgasegotarmy116]

"You like it?" | Hwang Hyunjin

Summary: Hyunjin got a new eyebrow piercing and he wants to know what you think Pairing: Reader x Hyunjin (non idol au, established relationship) Word Count: 1.6k~ Warnings: Oral (male receiving), explicit language, teasing, idk man that's it i guess. a/n: Pure filth and it kinda sucks (pun intended lmao) but I hope you guys like it 😅 This is my first Stray Kids fic so idk if it'll get any attention 🥲 p.s. I only have like one picture of hyunjin with his piercing and I didn't really look good on a banner so sorry no banner for his one 😭

"Hey baby" I say, greeting my boyfriend as he walks in. "How did work go?" I question taking his jacket and hanging it up for him. "Yeah it went alright, can't complain" he says and walks over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

"Why are you still wearing your sunglasses?" I question, amused at seeing the dark lenses covering his face while inside our apartment. "Oh, no reason" he says, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose.

"So, are you gonna take them off?" I laugh while crossing my arms over my chest. "Wasn't planning on it" he says with a smirk, clearly showing he's up to something. "What did you do?" I question, giving him a chance to come clean before I force him to. 

"Why would you think I did something?" he retorts copying my posture with his arms over his chest as well. "Don't play coy with me" I say, still intrigued with what exactly he's trying to hide. "Why would I be playing coy with you?" he teases and when he shakes his head at me I see something under his bangs catch a gleam of light. 

"Hyunjin did you get a piercing?" I question with my eyes wide and now trying to take his glasses off myself. "No" he says ducking under my arm and running away from me. "Yes you did don't lie to me" I say rushing after him. 

"Why would I be lying to you?" he throws at me while trying to keep his giggles at bay. "Then why are you running?" I say and finally am able to grab ahold of his arm but he pulls me along with him and I lose my balance. Waiting for my face to hit the floor I'm instead met with the firm muscle of his chest. 

"You really are clumsy, aren't you?" he laughs with him laying on the floor and me having landed on top of him. "If you hadn't been messing around then I wouldn't have fallen" I retort and struggle to try and get up but he places a stronghold around my waist, keeping me there. 

"You wanna see what I did today?" he questions and I decide to just nod since the answer is rhetorical at this point. "Go ahead" he says raising his brows a bit and nonverbally telling me to take off his sunglasses revealing two little silver balls resting on his brow. 

"I knew it!" I say feeling victorious. "I knew it? That's you reaction?" he asks laughing at me. "Well yeah, I was right" I say laughing right along with him. "Why didn't you tell me?" I say my eyes now fixated on it. "I wanted it to be a surprise" he says sitting up and leaving me trying to slide off his lap but his hands on my hips keep me from leaving. 

"So..." he asks. "So what?" I tease back, not giving into him clearly fishing for compliments. "So what do you think?" he says now frowning at me, annoyed with my teasing. "Yeah it's fine" I say, brushing him off and trying to escape but my efforts are laid to waste again as he keeps me close.

"You hate it" he says, resigning to insecurity. "Baby, no I'm just teasing you" I say turning around and seeing his brows pinched together in worry. "You wanna know what I really think?" I ask and he simply responds with a raise of his pierced brow. 

"Stand up" I say and we both get up onto our feet and I get on my tiptoes and kiss him, leaving him wanting more as he chases after my lips when I pull away but when he opens his eyes they widen to saucers as he sees me getting on my knees in front of him. I look down at his belt and then back up at him, waiting for permission and he gives me a slight nod accompanied by a grin, loving what a simple piercing has done for me.

I trail my hands up his thighs slowly and watch his eyes light up as they inch closer and I make sure to rub him lightly on my way up leaving him growling at my teasing. Once I've reaches his belt I unfasten it quickly leaving his hips jerking with each tug I do and toss it across the room (for dramatic effect).

Unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper is a task that he feels is going too slow for him so he swats my hands away and does it himself and pulls down his jeans but leaves his boxers on for me to take care of. 

Looking at the outline of his dick get bigger I look up at him through my lashes and hear him curse under his breath. I look back down and see a slight wet patch on the outside and smile at the fact. "Look, I've barely touched you and yet you're already leaking pre cum all over" I coo, pressing my thumb against the spot, teasing the tip and leaving his hips bucking into my touch. 

"So needy" I taunt and lean in, replacing my thumb with my tongue, dragging it up and down his shaft, teasing him as much as he'll let me. "Stop" he growls and I look up at him feigning innocence as he cocks his brow at me, waiting impatiently for me to move on. 

I hook my thumbs under his waistband and pull them down leaving his dick springing up and almost smacking me in the face. My mouth waters at the sight, his tip tripping with pre cum, all red and sensitive already with me barely having touched him, veins running on the underside of his cock leaving me wanting to trace my tongue all over them. 

Best of all though is looking up at him while he's waiting with bated breath, his eyes full of desire as he watches me from above and nibbling on his bottom lip. I drag the tip of my tongue up and down his shaft, giving only enough pressure to show that I'm there and I can see his thighs start to contract, quickly losing his patience. 

I laugh a bit and when he goes to open his mouth I take the tip into my mouths and swirl my tongue all around it, sucking on it lightly leaving him letting out a sigh in satisfaction from finally getting some sort of stimulation.

I let it out of my mouth with a pop and spit on my hand, rubbing my hand up and down his shaft, pumping him as I watch all of the tension drain from his body, his mouth slightly parted and his brows scrunched together from the pleasure he's feeling. 

"Fuck" he stutters when I pick up the pace and his eyes shoot open and look down at me, donning a devious smirk. "You fucking minx" he growls and I don't bother denying it as I stop my ministrations for a moment and waiting for him to protest before taking him in my mouth again. making sure to gather more saliva to drag up and down his cock until I'm drooling all over myself. 

He's fighting against his body wanting to close his eyes and throw his head back and get lost in the feeling versus keeping his eyes open and watching me on my knees with my doe eyes looking up at him while he watches his dick go in and out of my mouth while I rub my thighs together to give myself some relief.

"Shit" he groans and loses the battle, throwing his head back and grabbing onto my hair and I keep bobbing up and down, my jaw starting to ache. "Fuck keep going, where do you want it?" he ask, giving me a choice. I instead of answering hollow out my cheeks before swallowing around him, earning a growl in return. 

"You gonna swallow gorgeous?" he asks, watching my tear streaked face as more fall in their wake mingling with the drool running down my chin. "Blink twice for yes love" he says leaving me blinking twice immediately. "Fuck" he says and takes a hold of my head, thrusting into my mouth a few more times before he's cumming down my throat, letting out a groan while he rides out his high. 

Stumbling back when I pull his dick out of my mouth he looks down at me with a fucked out daze and smiles down at me. "Open" he says through soft pants and I open my mouth in turn showing him that I've swallowed like I said I would. "Fuck you're so fucking pretty" he says and helps me up off of my knees and smashes his lips against mine, desperate to taste himself on my tongue. 

Once he's finally calmed down a little I help him tuck himself back in his boxers and pull his jeans up so he can straighten himself out. "So you really like the piercing huh?" he asks with a lazy smile. "Yes I really like the piercing" I say laughing at his smug nature before giving him one last kiss and heading into the shower. 

"You coming?" I ask and before I could even think to ask again he's running into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him and pushing me up against it, kissing me and making my mind fog up right along with the steam that's filling the room around us.  

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#fanfic #kpop #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #reader x stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #skz #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you

[hanalulugguk]

Sugar Rush Ride I

Pairings: Han Jisung x fem oc

genre: fluff, non-idol AU

Warnings: none.

Word count: 3.9 k

bold is korean

(Slightly revisited!)

this was a dream i had a few weeks ago that i’ve been think about since and made it into a series of one shots. was so excited to write n post it i didn’t even plan it out so hopefully i won’t change anything.

jisungie library assistant part 1/?

Enjoy <3

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Tossing her pen over the scattered stacks of paper on the table, lyra leaned back in her seat, back pressing against the hard wood of the chair she had been sitting on for hours as she lets out a huff of frustration. Her eyes drift to the clock on her open laptop, 10:27pm , she’s been here since 3pm. Arriving at the busy hours of the library, when the bustle of passing students spending time here to pass their breaks or when people would pass by after work in hopes of finding a new book or finding a quiet place to read, and remaining well into the late hours of the night when there would be a maximum of 10 people spread all across the vast space of the local library.

This was her typical routine, being in her first year of achieving a master’s degree, lyra quickly found herself in a similar routine to when she was in college. Spending the early afternoon in class then spending the rest of her day at the library, studying. Being in the first few months, one wouldn’t expect to be this behind, but apparently the daily 2 hour class was enough to pile up onto itself and create more work, research and extra work to catch up. But that is to be expected, she’s just meant to endure it and push through, especially since a master’s in psychology was her idea. 

Opting to take a quick break before she finishes the last task of night to head home, she picks herself up, slipping her headphones off her head and standing from her chair with a great deal of effort, similar to that of a mother of 4 children with a husband to take care of, she take her wallet before pushing her chair in, pile of messy work left to be dealt with later as she heads to the big library doors. Lyra’s favourite thing about the library, aside from everything which is why she spends close to all her time there, is the cafeteria divided from the main common area, the library, on the 3rd floor. 

For a library cafeteria, it sure was wondrous, there was always fresh pastries and food in the early hours of the day, the afternoon and sometimes late into the night, depending on how busy it is there. Aside from the pastries and coffee, shockingly good coffee too, the cafeteria provided a really delicious and filling menu, one that people who don’t even come to the library come to visit. With how often lyra goes to the library, she is already familiar with all the staff, no matter their shift, she has at some point come across them or has even befriended them from her college days.

Making her way into the elevator and pressing on the button to the 3rd floor, she pulls out her phone to check for any messages, turning off the do not disturb option. After quickly reading over them, the elevator dings, letting her know that she has arrived at the 3rd floor. As soon as the metal doors part open and the soft voice of Taylor swift reaches lyra’s ears, she steps out with a slight furrow to her brows. Usually, from early morning till late in the afternoon at least, the music playing in the 3rd floor is soft lofi, or quick jazz music, both of which are a funny soundtrack to a late breakfast or early dinner, but nonetheless, they made a little more sense than taylor swift, this late in the night.

As she makes her way past the entrance, Lyra is met with the empty cafeteria, the sound of clattering utensils and plates heard from the back kitchen, aside from the one figure in view behind the cash register. At the sound of lyra’s footsteps the man’s head lifts from his fix on his foot to offer her a small smile. “I was wondering when you’ll come by,”

“Hi axel,” lyra greets softly, leaning on the counter, axel mirroring her so they were face to face, breaths almost mingling. “Hey little dove, how’s studying?” he asks with a light pat to her head. She drops her head forward with a small grunt making axel chuckle. “I think i’m gonna go insane before I cure any kids,” she saunters making him shake his head, “no you won’t. You’re the best future child psychologist of our time,” he defends making her look up with raised brows, “i sense sarcasm.” he shakes his head again with a laugh before pushing himself off the counter to stand up straight.

“What can i get you?” he asks moving to the sandwich stall where all the ingredients and toppings were still left out. “Anything is fine, I just need to get some food in me so my stomach isn’t louder than my music.” lyra responds, going to watch axel put her sandwich together from behind the glass barrier. He slips on a pair of clear gloves before pulling out some sandwich bread, “speaking of music, is this your doing?” she asks pointing her finger up at the invisible music flowing between them, still loud and clear inside the cafeteria, “if it’s past 9pm and it’s not the weeknd or j balvin then yes, it’s me.” axel responds not looking up from the sandwich he was assembling. “Did you get dumped?” lyra asks, eyeing him as he adds extra jalapenos into her sandwich, just how she likes it.

“Is taylor swift for people who get dumped?” he asks taking a quick glance at the girl on the opposite side of the glass. “I am choosing not to elaborate further considering how my only meal for the next couple of hours is with your reach.” axel chuckles as he shakes his head, “don’t worry i won’t poison you,” he assures, making her jokingly let out a loud breath of relief.

 “I like jonah’s taste better though,” she says after a moment of silence, axel drops the onions he hand in hand back into their container as he leans on the glass, “why don’t you let jonah make your sandwich?”

“I’ll stare directly in the sun but never in the mirror,” lyra sings along to anti hero playing through the speakers making axel laugh as he goes back to adding the onions on top as a last touch then wrapping her sandwich. “I think you’ll like it, i tried it yesterday and had it again for lunch, it’s my current favourite.” he says handing it to her above the glass. Axel is always using his free food privilege at the cafeteria during his shift to try out new combinations with the sandwiches, switching out different spices and trying new dishes in the cafeteria kitchen. Sharing every successful one with lyra when she comes by.

 She unwraps the first part of the sandwich as she takes a generous bite, axel watches her full cheeks and her concentrated face in amusement and anticipation, watching her slowly chew, savouring every emulsion of flavour that she tastes. As soon as she swallows she looks over at her friend with a dreamy look in her eyes, “you’ve truly outdone yourself, again.” she makes sure to add before taking another bite. He smiles, “glad you like it, don’t get bored of it too fast, i won’t be trying anything new for a while i really like this one.” he points making her shake her head, “i could never get bored of eating anything you make.” axel rolls his eyes watching her eat, content smile on her face. 

“How much is it?” she asks pulling her wallet out of her back pocket, “it’s on the house.” lyra raises her brows with a scowl, “is that pity?” she asks sarcastically making axel shake his head, “that’s ‘i’ll give you a free sandwich, you’ll bring me cheesecake when you make some’. No pity.”

Lyra extends out her hand for a handshake, axel placing his hand in hers “deal.” they both give a firm handshake. She looks over at the display watch above the cashier as she lets out a small gasp at the time, 10:55. “I need to go finish something really quick before i pack up and leave.” axel looks up at the clock and nods, waving her off, “i need to pack up and help jonah in the kitchen too. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes you will, say hello to jonah for me. And thank you for the sandwich.” she waves as she walks backwards, “no thank you’s just finish it.” axel calls back as she turns around to leave, “consider it devoured.” she calls back, not bothering to turn around as she makes her way back to the library. By the time she’s in and out of the elevator and has made her way back to the library entrance she only has less than half the sandwich left, she wraps it up before she enters, opting to finish the rest on her way home since food isn’t allowed in the library.

When she makes her way inside, lyra notices that everyone else at the library has already packed up and left, the only occupied table in the big library is the one right at the centre right in front of the victorian history section, the one that is home to her scattered paper, laptop and bag. She makes her way over, placing the food in her bag before she picks up her pen and opens her computer again. After about 10 minutes of pure silence, her choosing not to put her headphone back on feeling weary being the only one in the library, the sound of shuffling feet is heard next to her as she looks over at the far right to see a man at the furthest bookshelf from where she sat. the man was wearing a simple oversized white shirt tucked into a pair of beige pants with a black leather belt through the loops of his pants. He had slighty long blonde hair. He stood stoically, putting some books in his hand away. Lyra furrows her brows, not remembering seeing him before with any of the other staff, matter of fact there hadn’t been anyone on the night shift aside from sally, the lovely old librarian, for the past 4 months. She can’t recall either if he was one of the few people who were at the library aside from her working.

As she stares a little at the man, he turns around, eyes fixed to the two other book in his hand as he looks over the titles, now that he is towards her, lyra can see that his blonde hair is relatively longer at the front, his bangs resting on top of the frames of his black rimmed glasses that rested high on his nose bridge. Lyra shifts a little in her seat, turning back to her work, she’s only able to work for a few minutes before she feels too uneasy at the sound of feet pattering outside her line of vision. As she was about to pack up, she hears the pattering grow louder as he makes his way towards her table but walks past her to stand in front of the victorian history shelves. He stands for a few moments, looking between the books as he holds up the last book in his hand, taking a good look at it. Lyra furrows her brows at the strange man before pushing her chair back to get up. As the sound of the chair echoes in the empty library, the man turns around to find the source of the sound. His eyes land on lyra as she stands the table barely a few feet away from him, he gives her a quick shy smile before he turns back around to face the shelves. She notices a slight fidget in his stance as he continuously looks from the book to the shelves. She waves it off and packs up her papers into her file and stacks them on her notebook, when she puts her laptop away into it’s case, the notebook and file follows before she zips it up. Picking the stray items on the desk to put into her bag, the pen, her lip balm, wallet, the earrings that were too heavy in her ears so she took them off and tossed them aside, and her headphones. She slings her bag over her shoulder and cradles the laptop case in her arms, she takes one quick look to make sure she got everything before stepping aside to push the chair back into place under the table before turning to leave.

She takes her typical route home, quick 10 minute walk from the library to the bus stop, wait 10 minutes for the bus to arrive, takes the bus to the closest stop near her apartment, and then the 5 minute walk from the bus stop to her apartment. Lyra lived in a small humble, studio apartment. It was a yearly lease that she was very content with, the apartment was perfect for her.

When you walk in there’s a tiny hallway, as soon as you’re out on your right is the tiny kitchen with the basic needed appliances, stove, fridge, microwave and a sink. On the left is the medium sized bathroom, and right ahead is a small wall that stretches out about halfway across the width of the room where a small wooden desk was pressed up against, her bed lay behind the wall, out of view of the door and anyone who comes in. Opposite the bed was a closet with all of her clothes and shoes, all strategically placed to fit without being crowded. Above the bed was another level, a metal ladder leading up to it where a small lounge area lay. It wasn’t originally there but upon pondering over how to make the apartment feel spacious without crowding things over top of each other to fit a couch and chairs for when people come over. On the second, small, level was a few pairs of chairs on one side whilst the other side had a couch. The narrow floor to ceiling window letting in the midnight sky and light from the lampposts in the street. Hanging planets and pots littered the small apartment adding some colour to the fully white walls and interior along with some wooden furniture. 

She set her things on her desk, pulling out her sandwich as she makes her way to the window to close the curtain, she manoeuvres in the dark, munching on the sandwich in hand as she makes her way to the kitchen to heat up some water, in the meantime she eats the last of her sandwich and changes into her pyjamas and proceeds to the bathroom to wash her face before she gets too lazy to do so. By the time she’s pulling her laptop and papers out the kettle starts whistling letting her know that water is done. She makes her way over to it, adds a tea packet to her mug before pouring some water and taking the mug to her desk with her. 

By 1:40, eyes drowsy, tea long gone and mug placed aside, neck aching and eyes burning from the only light in the room being right in her face, she’s done with her task. She crawls into bed and plugs her phone into the charger before she’s swallowed by sleep. 

---

At exactly 11pm jisung makes his way past the building entrance and into the library, he places his bag on the main desk that is used when borrowing books. He takes a quick look around noticing the library to be practically empty, except for a woman who is emersed in her work, not noticing the new presence. Opting to get the job done with rather than wasting the little time left in his shift any longer, jisung goes around to pick up the books left behind by their previous users. Wondering how hard could it possibly be for people to return the books where they got them, it also doesn’t help that jisung still doesn’t know where every genre is and where to put most books. 

Once he had a stack of about 9  books placed on one table, he grabs a few in hand and goes around placing the ones he knows where to put them, when he has 3 left he feels a little stuck. The one at the top is an autobiography, so he walks over with all 3 in hand towards the bookshelves closest to the door and places it where it alphabetically should be. Then he holds the last two in his hand, turning away from the shelves as he stares at them. ‘David copperfield’ and ‘a brief history of life in victorian britain’. Isn’t david copperfield fiction? Should it go in fiction?

After a few seconds of contemplating he opts to check the system on the computer, that’s what sally suggests he does if he ever gets stuck. God bless her for being so patient on his first day every time he came to her with a new book he didn’t know where to place, she would guide him to every bookshelf. She did so for every one of the 30 books he placed that day, until. She showed him to use the computer to look up the books, making him thank her profusely and even almost hug her as she smiled at the younger man. 

He  leans forward, one hand holding him up as he uses the other to type the book titles. When he’s done he knows he should place david copperfield in the fictional novel section and the other book in victorian history, but where are these?

Jisung picks up the two books and slowly walks around, skimming over every section title, hyper aware of how loud his boots sound in the empty library. Wondering, is the sound too loud for her? Is it bothering her whilst she works? At his wondering he takes a quick glance in her direction to see her twirling her pen between her fingers, eyes fixed on the work in front of her. In his peripheral vision jisung noticed the title of the bookshelf in front of her desk, he looks up to read it properly. Victorian history. He pushes his glasses that have slid down, a little further up his nose bridge as he slowly makes his way to it.

He takes a quick glance as he passes by the woman’s table, trying to catch a look at what she’s doing but doesn’t understand anything so he just makes his way past her. Once in front of the shelf he reaches to place the book at the beginning but notices the books aren’t in alphabetical order, more so scattered. He looks at the book then looks back at the shelf trying to catch a pattern, too focused where the loud sound of wood pushing against the floor catches him off guard making him abruptly turn around, meeting eyes with the woman who now stood at the table she was occupying. When he does his eyes flutter quickly, mouth open just the slightest bit as his eyebrows raise a little, he stares at her for a second, one that felt like it lasted longer than it did, before he breaks out of it, flashing her a quick smile before he turns his back to her. Why did he do that? That was so lame. 

Jisung is drowned by his anxious thoughts at the few second interaction that can’t even be labelled as an interaction. He mindlessly fiddles with the books in his hand as he ponders, Did he really stare for too long? Has he possibly seen anyone this beautiful before? 

The sound of the chair scrapping the floor breaks him out of his thoughts but this time he fights the urge to turn around, he hears the sound of her feet drift further away before they're out of earshot. When he no longer hears them, he turns around to look at the empty table where the only previous company once was, then to the door where she left. Jisung stands there for a second, trying to think up what he could remember of her face. She was very beautiful, her features were so sharp, skin so bright and aura so strong he almost felt it engulf him, her eyes were soft though. So soft he almost melted where he stood as he looked into them. He’s heard of people so enticing they lure you in, their gaze so sharp they cage you, but he can’t recall being able to say that about anyone he’s met before.

Mind in a daze, jisung turns back to the shelf, shoving the book the first place his hand could reach. His arms swing by his side as he looks around for the fictional novel section to place the last book. Once he does he makes his way back to the front. 

On his way, his eyes linger at the table where the woman was when he passes. He sighs as he takes a seat at the main desk chair, beginning his last task of the night, checking the borrowed and returned list and updating the manual one and making note of tomorrow’s to be returned list. By the time he’s done it’s 1 am, and he’s been yawning for 30 minutes straight. He closes up the computer, turns off the light when he’s at the entrance with his bag in hand. As he bids farewell to the security guard at the gates he pulls out his phone as he halts a cab to go home. 

Once home he notices the lights are on, a light murmer coming from his roommate’s room. He makes his way over  and knocks gently, a soft 'come in’ is heard on the other side urging jisung to open the door. Chan is seated at his desk, body turned around to look at the door as jisung leans in, “i’m home.” 

“Welcome, did you eat?” chan asks taking his headphones off fully, “yeah i ate before i went to work, did you?” chan nods gently, dark circles under his eyes illuminated  by the desk light he had on.

“Hey if i went to work a little late do you think they’ll cut the day out or just the time?” jisung asks, chan looks to be think about it before he asks, “when did you go and when are you supposed to go?”

“11. I’m supposed to be there 6.” jisung answers sheepishly scratching his neck, “yeah consider it a free day i doubt they’ll pay you.” chan answers with a chuckle making jisung groan. “Why were you late?” 

“I forgot i was switched to the night shift, i only remembered when i was on my way home,” jisung sighs, chan looking at him sympathetically, knowing the younger has been having a difficult time recently, it was showing in his work, he just doesn’t know why. And he didn’t wish to pry, he knows jisung to talk when he wants to, when he’s comfortable enough to share. “I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

“Night,” chan’s voice makes it out before jisung closes the door and heads to his room. He gets straight into bed not bothering to change, being up since 6 having already taken him out, especially with him needing to be up at 6 again meaning he barely has 5 hours to sleep. For almost an hour he struggles to find sleep,mind clouded with thoughts of anything but sleep, overthinking coming easy to him at the late hours of the night. Some of these thoughts are of the woman at the library. What is she like? What does her voice sound like? What does her smile look like? Is she easy to make laugh? Is she funny? Would she find jisung funny? What does her laugh sound like? 

Before he’s able to ponder further he’s already snoring.

#han #hanjisung #sungie #jisungie #jisung #jisung scenarios #jisung smut #jisung fluff #jisung x reader #jisung gifs #jisung han #han jisung #jisung fanfic #fan fiction #stray kids #stray kids x stay #straykids #reader x stray kids #stra kids han #stray kids han jisung #stra kids han jisung fluff #jisung non idol au #lee felix #hwang hyunjin #bang chan #seo changbin #lee minho #yang jeongin #stray kids lee know #stray kids bangchan

[thunderous-wolf]

The Ball Dance

Installment 1 of my series of "Thoughtz"

a/n: "Thoughtz" is a compilation of drafts of fanfic I've had in my notes for a while. They're unedited and most are unfinished. Since I do not feel motivated enough to finish them, I'm posting them for you all to read. Enjoy~

Pairing: Nobleman Skz Member x Noblelady fem!reader (it's a surprise ish) - [Featuring unannounced members of TXT, Enhypen, Skz and Ateez]

Plot: reader gets invited to a Masquerade Ball and stumbles upon a special someone.

Warnings: kissing, slightly suggestive, mentions of alcohol, a bestie who teases you way too much, cringy nicknames, jello

Word count: somewhere around 1000?

Please DO NOT copy, translate or steal my works

"M'lady, we've arrived." Said the voice of Peter, the temporary driver of my carriage. My father, the Duke of Purpureus, had allowed me to go to my first ever party in high society - as long as I promised to be heading home by midnight, of course. He was a rather strict man, and after some convincing, he finally softened up a bit on the idea of letting me go on my own to the big city. I better not screw this up, or else I'll never be allowed to go anywhere unsupervised ever again.

After the cart stopped, Peter came and opened the door for me. My eyes were met with a glorious sight. The castle was spectacular. It shone in the setting sun's light as if it were made out of the sun's rays itself. Stepping out of the carriage, I flashed a quick smile to Peter before continuing to the door.

"Thanks, Peter. I'll see you later."

"As you wish, M'lady. But please do be back by midnight, else your father will be worried." He said before hopping onto the driver seat and leaving me to the party. I couldn't wait to see the inside of the castle and the many guests. Who knows who I may meet?

I excitedly - yet carefully - walked up the many steps to the castle entrance. I had not had the chance to attend many parties of high society, much less ones hosted by the Royal family themselves. I had never set foot in the castle before, and that was going to change soon.

I was awed as I walked through the halls. Everything seemed so luxurious. The lights, the carpeting, the pictures. My fathers duchy was rather wealthy, but certainly not this rich. A single door handle here probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

Nothing prepared me for the extravagance I would witness when I stepped into the ballroom.

Looking down from the staircase, I was amazed at the scenery. Everything was elaborately decorated. From the large crystal chandeliers to the exquisite dinnerware. I felt like royalty myself.

Below me were rows of people in colorful outfits, all dressed to the nines and adorning their own masks I was both excited and nervous at the idea of mingling within them. Anyone I meet here - any friendships I create - will remain a mystery. That could be both good and bad.

"What's the point in attending a ball if you're just going to stand on a staircase and people watch?" A voice said from behind me. I turned around to see a woman about my age in a black dress that glistened like midnight. It was sleek and bold in contrast to the various eyecatching poofy dresses that the other ladies wore. Her brown curly hair was pulled into a braid with small coils of hair framing her face. She smirked as she saw me staring. "I know I'm stunning, but my intention wasn't for you to turn around and start gawking at me." She said sarcastically. At her comment, I looked away and blushed.

"I- uh- sorry!" I said, embarrassed.

"You're so funny when you're flustered. But this night was made for some handsome young man to fluster you, not me. So let's go! Live a little! There's a reason you're wearing a mask. No one will recognize you! Well, except for me, but that's besides the point." She said, shooing me towards the stairs. I knew from her animated voice that this was my best friend, Aya, who resided in a neighboring duchy. I looked back at her hesitantly, but by the sassy look on her face, I knew that it was no use resisting her antics.

"I'll go if you come with me.." I said, trying to get her to atleast accompany me. What kind of best friend let's you wander into a place you've never been before all alone?

"No, no! Go. I want to make a dramatic entrance!" She said teasingly, waving her hands in the air to show how "dramatic" it would be. I rolled my eyes before continuing down the stairs.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I turned around. If she is going to make a dramatic entrance, I am going to watch. To my surprise, she was gone. Was this part of her scheme?

To my dismay, it was certainly not part of her scheme. I have been standing here waiting for her to appear, but she never did. I huffed. She tricked me. That little-

"Excuse me, Miss. May I have this dance?" A voice interrupted me from my thoughts. I turned around and my eyes were met with the smile of a - quite tall - bashful man. He shyly held out a gloved hand for me to grab, hoping that I would accept his offer. And his hopes came true, since I knew that I would feel guilty if I said no.

He gently led me over to the area where the rest of the guests were waltzing. With a soft smile, he rested a hand on the small of my back, with the other tenderly grasping my hand, and started dancing.

As we danced, he became a little less timid. We began having a little conversation while waltzing around, and I found that he was a really sweet guy. It was a shame that I couldn't put a face to his personality.

When the dance ended, he offered to grab a drink or a snack for me. He said that the champagne here was quite delectable if I had never tried it. When I told him I have never even been here before, he insisted on getting some champagne for me. With a small smile, he left, promising to be back shortly.

With this, I was left alone. I zoned out, watching the swirling of the various dresses. However, something caught my eye. It was a black dress in a sea of color. I knew exactly who it was. She was not too far away, so I decided to go pester her.

As I approached, she suddenly started laughing quietly (as to not make as much of a commotion). I couldn't quite see who she was talking to, but they must be funny.

"That was a terrible joke!" She said, still laughing.

"He's told worse. Trust me."

"Hey!" The supposed teller of the joke exclaimed. This sent the others into another fit of quiet laughter.

Regaining her breath, she glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but then her eyes landed on me. So much for the surprise factor.

"What happened to your grand entrance, my esteemed friend-" I started.

"Now, now. We mustn't name names here,.. cupcake." She interrupted, turning from her previous conversation. I blushed slightly at the use of the nickname. Why must she bring this up in public? As if they could read my mind, the two guests she was talking to laughed under their breath at the cute name.

"Thank you, Honey Muffin. Wouldn't want me breaking the rules, would we?" I said, in an attempt to get the attention off of me.

"Honey Muffin?" A man said, poking his head out from behind her and into my view. When she turned to face him, I could finally see him clearly. I could see why they were together, it was as if they complemented eachother perfectly. In contrast to her black dress, he was wearing an all white suit, decorated with diamonds in all of the right places. It was a little eccentric, but it fit him well. At first glance, they both came off as a little intimidating, but judging from this conversation, they were certainly not.

"Don't even." She threatened playfully. It was a little comical, since he was taller than her. Her serious tone melted into laughter as he made a ridiculous pouty face in response to her.

"Let's give them some room. Care for a dance, M'Lady?" The other man said to me with a flirty smile. I didn't even get a chance to answer before he wisked me away to the dance floor.

As I was dancing, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. His charisma enamored me. I was like a moth drawn to a flame. I couldn't escape his charm. He had a beautiful smile that surely has seduced many ladies before. He was also quite a good dancer. Not to mention, he wasn't too bad on the eyes.

"Found someone you fancy yet, Miss Cupcake?" He said, breaking your trance.

"I - um.. no? Well.."

He chuckled at my response. "You can just tell me you think I'm hot, you know." He said, with a cheshire grin. My jaw would have dropped to the ground if I didn't have to keep my ladylike composure. I wasn't entirely thinking of him, but I couldn't deny that he was hot either.

With a satisfied look, he let us continue dancing without much more teasing. He must have taken pity on my cherry red face. Thank goodness.

Our dancing was cut short, however, when he spotted someone in the crowd. After apologizing, he dashed over to his friend. I watched as a shorter - yet buff - man emerged from the crowd. He immediately recognized my former dancing partner, and they both gave each other the most manly hug I have ever seen.

Now that I had been left alone once again, I decided to go grab a snack. I slowly weaved my way through the crowd and found the massive food table. I grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and planned my next course of action. I wanted to not get caught stuck in place by my fellow partygoers. There were a few groups of people gathered around the table, but one group certainly grabbed your attention.

"(very loud gasp) THEY HAVE PURPLE JELLO?!" A young man exclaimed. He seemed to be about the same age as me, however, he acted like a toddler.

"Yes, there's purple jello. There's every color of jello. Would you please quiet down? You're drawing too much attention." The other young man he was with said. He had a hand shielding his face and was acting like he didn't know his overly excited friend.

"WHOA. It's a rainbow of jello!" The first man said, bewildered. This earned him some strange looks from people within earshot. The second man looked as if he wished the earth would just swallow him up. I couldn't help but find the first man's antics adorable.

Seeing that I was watching him, the extroverted man waved me over.

"Have you ever tried purple jello? I've never even seen it before! I thought Hee- I mean, Bambi, was kidding when he said that the Palace had purple jello!" He said excitedly. "Here, try a bite!" He asked, handing me a tiny plate with a square of jello on it.

"I'm sorry, but I am not very fond of jello. I do like the color purple though." I said, trying to politely decline his offer. I felt a little bad when I saw his pouting face. It quickly vanished as he got side tracked by a new dessert.

"Please don't forget your manners." The more mature one said to the childlike young man. The latter's eyes widened and he quickly apologized. I assured him that it was alright, and his youthfulness was refreshing.

Shortly after, he got distracted by yet another food item and rushed off, the second man hurriedly following after him. I also continued down the table in search of something else to eat.

Scanning the tables, my eyes landed on a cookie platter. These intricately shaped cinnamon cookies had caught my attention, and I was determined to get one. I gracefully moved closer and reached to grab one when suddenly, a hand brushed against mine. Looking up, a young man was standing across the table from me, also trying to grab one of the cookies.

When we made eye contact, it seemed as if time stopped. My breath caught in my throat and my heartbeat was racing. He was stunning. His bronze and white suit hugged him in all the right places, and his mask was designed in a way that perfectly showcased his chocolate brown eyes. The light was wonderfully illuminating his face so it seemed almost as if he was glowing.

"I - uh - sorry!" He said, bashfully. His voice snapped me out of my daydream and I finally let go of the breath that I had no idea that I had been holding. I looked away, embarrassed that I had been staring.

"I-its alright. I should have paid more attention." I said, my cheeks growing warm. The man cleared his throat, drawing my focus back to him, before suddenly becoming a little bold. "Could I make it up to you with a dance?" He said, smiling.

I could not resist his dimpled smile, so of course agreed to a dance.

Suddenly, one dance became two, then three, and so on and so on. I became entranced by his aura. With each step, each twirl of our waltzing, I began to fall deeper. His dazzling eyes were looking at me as if I was his entire world, and that's when it happened. I realized that I was in love.

So when he pulled me closer at the end of this song, it felt like my heart had taken control of my body. He leaned in, and we were now only a breath apart. He glanced from my eyes to my lips before asking in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "May I?".

My coy smile was all he needed to close the distance between us. His plush lips seemed to fit perfectly with mine, sending a whole new wave of butterflies in my stomach.

Sadly, it did not last that long. He pulled away slightly and looked at me with those wonderful eyes of his again. I could see there was a bit of pink dusting his cheeks, which probably mirrored my own. A cheeky smile grew on his face.

"Have you ever explored the castle before?" He asked.

"No. I've never been here before." I said skeptically. What was he trying to say?

"Good. I'll take you for a tour." He said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and starting tugging me to the staircase. Confused, I wordlessly followed him.

I didn't know if it was the crazy feelings inside my heart or the alcohol that got me here, but I now found myself pinned against the wall of a guest bedroom, caged between the arms of a man who would certainly be the death of me. He had long ago ditched the jacket and other formal outer attire, now sporting a mere dress shirt and pants. His hands were planted on either side of my head, and he was looking at me with such desire I thought my legs would give out then and there if he was not pressed against me.

With a sly smile, his swollen lips met mine again, and the jolt of electricity that ran through me from the contact was intoxicating. His hands fell from the side of my head to my waist, taking time on their journey, making sure to explore every inch of my body before they reach their destination. When they did, he pulled me impossibly closer, deepening the kiss.

I tangled my hands in his hair before sliding one down to the collar of his buttoned shirt. I clumsily fiddled with the top button until I managed to unbutton it. Noticing my plan, he stopped me before I could get any further.

"Hmph. That's reserved for the second date." He said inbetween kisses. "It's not curtious to take the lady to bed on the first date." He finished, while leaving a small bite at the end of his kiss trail down my neck - which made me gasp and left him pleased with his work.

Before I could respond, the bells chimed, signifying that it was midnight. My eyes shot open when I realized that I'd promised to be back to the carriage at midnight. Noticing my quickened breathing (that sadly wasn't caused by him) he pulled away.

"What's wrong?" He said, looking at me with worried eyes.

"I have to go. I told my father I'd be heading back home at midnight, and if I don't, I probably won't ever be allowed to a party ever again." I told him, despair creeping into my voice. If only I could spend this moment with you forever.

I could tell he felt the same. But after a moment, his face lit up.

"I know I'm not really supposed to do this, but I don't know if I'll ever get to find you again. I brought this pin with me, in hopes that I could give it to a special lady, and she would always wear it close to her heart until we could be reunited." He spoke, pulling out a small bag from one of the various pockets of his. "It's a one of a kind, made specially for me on my 16th birthday. It's a promise from me to you that I will find you."

He took my end and gently placed the pin in my palm. It depicted a smiling golden fox that large ears and a bushy tail. The design was so delicate that it looked as if it were a real animal.

"It's beautiful. Thank you. I swear that I'll always wear it. Even after you find me." I said, smiling. He gave me a small peck on the lips before guiding me out the door.

"Goodbye, my beloved Lady. I'll see you on that second date!" He said, watching me head down the corridor. I was glad I was faced away from him so that he couldn't see the bright red flush that had taken over my face.

This was a better party than I'd ever imagined. Let's just hope that I can find my way to the carriage...

[The End]

#skz x reader #skz imagines #skz #reader x stray kids #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #jeongin x y/n #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #i.n x reader #i.n #jeongin #masquerade ball #thoughtz

[skzsauce01]

Losing Game

Description: Jeongin loves you to death. Based on Duncan Laurence’s “Loving You is a Losing Game.”

Warning: death, war, inferiority complex

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: fem!reader x Yang Jeongin

A/N: Thank you to my SG friend for the military consult lol

Loving you is a losing game.

That’s what he thinks as he watches you fall to the ground. Time seems to stop, and in that moment, he sees your life together flash before his eyes.

He met you in high school. You were lab partners for biology, and he never thought anyone could look good in a lab coat until you walked up to him and introduced yourself. 

“Hi!” you said. “I’m Y/N. You’re Jeongin, correct?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry you’re partnered with me; I’m not that smart.”

You laughed amusedly and he could feel a warmth spread across his chest. “Well, Jeongin, I hope I can prove you wrong. Biology’s really fun, and I think you’ll find yourself better at it than you think.”

Jeongin never once met anyone who had such confidence in his academic ability. Your words resonated with him, and in the end, he really did do better than he could have imagined. He didn’t exactly find biology as fun as you suggested, but he would study late into the night for that one class just because it was on something you liked. He would stare at the tips and pointers you hand wrote for him until they’re etched into his brain, and imagine that little smile of yours whenever he did well. 

“This is the gallbladder, right? Next to the kidney? We need to dissect that out,” he’d once said.

“Right,” you nodded. Leaning towards the mouse pinned to your dissection tray, you began to pinch the gallbladder with your forceps. At that moment—one Jeongin thinks was sent from above—a strand of your hair falls into your face.

“Dang it,” you cursed, trying futilely to push it away with the non-gloved part of your wrist.

Jeongin, who was designated notetaker for the day, set his pen down. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind, can you grab a bobby pin from my pencil pouch?”

He bent down to your backpack and did as told, but was not expecting the heart attack he got when he straightened back up to see you leaning towards him.

“W-would you like me to put it on for you?” he stammered.

“If you don’t mind.”

Putting that bobby pin in your hair was the single most difficult thing Jeongin had ever done. The second most difficult thing was ignoring how hard his heart was pounding against his ribs afterwards.

“You’re pretty good at this dissection thing,” he comments, clearing his throat and trying to distract himself.

You beam. “You think so? I want to be a doctor when I grow up.”

“You’d definitely be a very good one.” Jeongin felt a little nervous. Would you still consider someone like him by your side when you are rich and successful?

What Jeongin thinks he lacks in intelligence, he makes up for with tenacity. For all three years of high school, he slaved through the most difficult of science courses just to stay by your side. To his surprise, you stuck by his side too, ignoring your more high-achieving peers’ dissuasion and their mockery towards someone like Jeongin.

Loving you is a losing game.

“Heyo,” you greeted him one lunch period, pulling a chair up to his desk like you’ve done every day for the past few years.

Jeongin quickly hid the barely-passing math quiz his teacher just handed him. “Hi, Y/N.”

You frowned, noticing his unusual demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, sipping nervously on his water.

You turned your head toward the chalkboard where his teacher had written the mean and standard deviation of the test. “Math?”

He signed helplessly and nodded.

“Do you need any help?”

He bit his cheek. “You’re already carrying me in chemistry; I don’t want to keep bothering you.”

“You’re not a bother. Besides, what are friends for?” Seeing that he wasn’t budging, you asked, “What do you want to do in the future?”

What did he want to do? That was a good question. He had gotten so used to just following you, he did not have much of his own direction. He did know that whatever college you were going to, he did not have much of a chance with, so what was he going to do?

You continued, “If it’s not math related, I don’t think you have to be so stressed about one grade.”

“But you’d never have done as poorly as this,” he couldn’t help but mutter.

You furrowed your brows immediately. “Jeongin, do you compare yourself to me?”

“Well, not exactly, but I— I mean, obviously, I can’t—”

“Jeongin,” you cut him off.

“I know I shouldn’t—”

“Jeongin.”

You only continued when you finally got him to look you in the eye. “I think you are brilliant. Really, I do. You have a unique ability to see different aspects of things I have never even considered. Sure, you may not score the highest on tests and exams, but the school system only measures one type of intelligence; it just happens to not be yours. It doesn’t mean you’re not smart, and it certainly does not mean you should see yourself as incapable. I look up to you, Jeongin. I wouldn’t if you weren’t worthy of it.”

Jeongin stared at you blankly after your speech. He felt funny. He didn't quite know how to put it, but it felt like you’d just turned his world upside-down.

“So, yeah!” You smiled, moving away from the serious tone. 

“What are your future plans?” Jeongin asked in return. “It’s time to start applying to college soon.”

“I was actually looking into the military.”

“Military? But you don’t even have to serve.”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your lunch. “Med school is expensive. Besides, it almost guarantees me a job.”

Jeongin chews slowly. “But it’ll be hard.”

“But at least we’ll be together, right? When you enlist too?”

He nearly chokes. Your well-meaning, friendly words were too much for his heart. He knew you did not have the intentions he’d wished you did, but he couldn’t help but hope.

He really should not have loved you. Maybe then, you would have had one less reason to be in the army. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be here, with him, on the front lines of 38th parallel. 

Loving you is a losing game.

“Sergeant, how are you holding up?” Your voice was staticy over the walkie talkie, but Jeongin was glad to hear it after trudging through trenches for the last couple of days.

“Hanging in there, Lieutenant.” 

“Good. The North seems to be advancing. The medical team is approaching as a precautionary and to check vitals.”

“Roger tha—”

BOOM! A large sound interrupts all conversations. 

“The North has activated one of our landmines! They are less than 500 meters away!” announced one of the men.

Jeongin threw on his helmet. “Fall in!” 

“Be careful!” Your voice was barely registered as another bomb went off and the troop mounted their guns over the trench.

The battle was chaos. No training, no matter how thorough, could have prepared Jeongin for what he experienced. Bullets were everywhere, and he could not tell if he’s even still alive or if his body was just acting on its own with residue adrenaline. The enemy kept advancing no matter what he did, but his own men were dropping like flies.

“Push forward” He barked. 

If his troop replied, he couldn’t hear it over the mines exploding and cannons firing. He led them onwards, shooting anything he could see without being able to even think about it. He was doing well—you were right about him being able to see things others couldn’t which allowed him to weave between enemy lines and attack where they were most weak. All his focus forward though made him neglect one thing: himself.

He knew as soon as he felt it under his foot.

“Fall back!” he cried, almost not quickly enough.

He could only pray his men did as told as he himself jumped as far away from the mine he just activated.

“Jeongin!” 

The pain was excruciating. He ended up sprawled forward, and when he looked back through blurred vision, his entire right leg was missing.

“I— I— I—”

“Shh, shh. Don’t panic.”

His head falls back to the ground, dizzy. Still, he kept his eyes trained on you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Over your radio, he could hear, “Lieutenant L/N, what are you doing? Retreat immediately!”

“If I don’t put a tourniquet on this now, you WILL die, Sergeant,” you declare through grit teeth.

“Just leave me. You’re going to get shot on this active field.”

“I’m wearing a red cross; they won’t shoot me.”

“Are you crazy? No one’s looking at who’s wearing what right now!”

“Just shut up and stay down!” You glared at him, eyes blazing with a desperation he’d never seen before. 

“Y/N…” He wanted to tell you to run, but his world was quickly growing dark. He could barely even mutter your name.

“Just… just shut up.” You went back to tying off his dismembered leg.

“Y/N…” But if he had the time to tell you one thing, it’ll be—

“You can’t die. I won’t let you,” you sniffled.

“I lo—”

You were tying the last knot, trying to wipe your tears with your shoulder as you did so. 

And that’s when it happened. That’s when he saw a bullet pass cleanly between your two eyes, and that’s how he comes to watch you fall, life already gone from your body, onto the ground with a soundless thud. He lays there, next to you, unable to do anything. With the last of his consciousness, he reached his hand out for yours.

Loving you is a losing game.

<Twenty years later>

Jeongin rolls his wheelchair into his office. He turns to the picture on his desk and salutes it. It is a picture of you, smiling with him the day he was promoted sergeant. He was so full of life back then. You were too.

… A broken heart is all that's left I'm still fixing all the cracks Lost a couple of pieces when I carried it, carried it, carried it home

… I've spent all of the love I saved We were always a losing game Small town boy in a big arcade I got addicted to a losing game

He peels his eyes away from you and goes to throw on his doctor’s coat.

… Oh, oh All I know, all I know Loving you is a losing game

~ ad.gold

#jeongin #in #stray kids #skz #jeongin fic #in fic #stray kids fic #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #jeongin angst #in angst #fem!reader #reader x jeongin #reader x stray kids #20230209

[wontune]

Hyunjin ✿ lockscreens

( stray kids )

#hyunjin packs #hyujin stray kids #hyunjin lockscreens #hyunjin layouts #hyunjin lq #hyunjin wallpaper #hyunjin wallpapers #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin users #hyunjin icons #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin instagram #hyunjin updates #hyunjin moodboard #hyunjin messy moodboard #hyunjin messy icons #hyunjin messy layouts #hyunjin messy locs #hyunjin headers #hyunjin comfort #hyunjin edits #hyunjin reactions #hyunjin texts #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin pics #hyunjin pfp #hyunjin aesthetic #kpop

[moonjxsung]

Lost in Translation

Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

*

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

*

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

*

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

*

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

*

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

*

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

*

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

*

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

*

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

*

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

*

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

*

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

*

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

*

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

*

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

*

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

*

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

*

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

*

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

#stray kids #skz smut #Lee Minho #Lee know #stray kids hard hours #Lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #request #requests open #Spotify

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

[scoupsofjisung]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ change is inedible, according to han jisung

also known as: episode 2 of: i find a funny incorrect quote and make my favs say it

🧸 paring: han jisung x f! reader

🧸 warnings: none. the word disease is used but like. not anything about it :) also psa: DON'T PUT COINS IN UR MOUTH

🧸 author rambles: me during my holidays: writes nothing. me when i have to prepare for a presentation at uni TOMORROW: makes a text fic 👹👹 once again this is so random but i wanted to make another text fic because it’s cute and i love stray kids (as if this is any different to usual), so here we go. also HANJISUNG’S HAIR ATM?????? unbelievable. he’s so pretty. (also something about creating something breaking me out of the endless cycle of scrolling and braindeadness. yeah 😎🤘🏽) enjoy!!

masterlist

blog info post!

#listen. jisung is really smart usually. both emotionally and academically (kinda). but at 3am? alone and bored? no brain cells to be found #his brain goes brr error 101 #also if you haven’t heard the phrase I’m rubber and your glue it ends ‘so anything you say bounces off me and sticks onto you’ #aka. he’s saying it back. but in a stupid way. i <3 him #scoupsofjisung #han jisung #han #jisung #hanji #hannie #jisungie #sungie #han x reader #han jisung x reader #reader x han #reader x han jisung #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #reader x skz #stray kids x reader #reader x stray kids #fanfic #fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanficion #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids text fic #text fic

[feelbokkie]

✨OT8's Shelf✨

Part 1

Authors: A-I

🌞Feelbokkie M.list🌞

Key:

📙 = fluff 📘 = angst 📕 = 18+ newest recs in green

A

📚 @aakomii 📚

i have a boyfriend 📙

📚 @amyysfics 📚

skz - you fall asleep while texting 📙

skz - your body insecurity gets bad while cuddling 📙 📘

📚 @astraystayyh 📚

mundane activities you'd enjoy with SKZ 📙

skz when you are stressed and overworked 📙

skz as oddly specific love languages 📙

B

📚 @binnieswings 📚

how skz would show their love for you in small ways 📙

📚 @blu-joons 📚

you’re asthmatic 📙 📘

you receive hate comments 📙 📘

you're insecure 📙 📘

C

📚@ceelestic 📚

skz as random pinterest text convos (hyung line) (maknae line) 📙

📚 @chan4evurrr 📚

special delivery to the jyp building 📙

📚 @channie-143 📚

skz texting idol reader after she has a wardrobe malfunction on stage 📙

SKZ Texting idol reader when they’re caught in a dating scandal (part 1) (part 2) 📙

texting skz can you peel an orange for me 📙

📚 @cheeseceli 📚

skz arguing over the bill 📙

you speak another language 📙

when you don't use their card 📙

📚 @chocotonez 📚

skz w/ a female ninth member 📙

realizing they love their s/o 📙 📘

📚 @cosmic-railwayxo 📚

sitting on their lap while they’re gaming 📙 📕

overworked with skz 📙 📘

D

📚 @daceydeath 📚

when you fall and hurt yourself while dancing (hyung line) (maknae line) 📙 📘

📚 @diddybok 📚

finding out best friend!stray kids has a new phone 📙

best friend!stray kids finding out you’re outside their door 📙

asking bff!skz for their password 📙

📚 @dreamescapeswriting 📚

reader is stressed out 📙 📘

skz reaction you want something trivial for your birthday 📙

skz reaction he forgets your birthday 📙 📘

skz reaction you're friends and calls you by a pet name 📙

skz reaction sewing hearts on their sleeves 📙

E

📚 @elllisaaa 📚

how skz would confess to you 📙

F

📚 @felixburneracc 📚

supporting you through therapy (part 1 hyun line) | (part 2 maknae line) 📙 📘

G

📚 @gamerwoo 📚

what type of person i think wrote stray kids 📙 📘

skz if you called them by their english name when they’re in trouble (hyung line) (maknae line) 📙

📚 @gyuworm 📚

imagine if we were dating — ot8 skz texts 📙

random texts 📙

H

📚 @hanjibug 📚

sleeping beauty 📙

how skz take care of you when you're on your period 📙

📚 @hanjiquokkaaa 📚

Skz reaction their s/o being insecure of their laugh 📙 📘

📚 @horanghaejamjam 📚

someone trying to take upskirt pictures of you 📙 📘

📚 @hvllevator 📚

s/o falls asleep on another member 📙

📚 @hwajin 📚

anxiety 📙 📘

📚 @hyunedew 📚

You take their skzoo 📙

📚 @hyunnieshannie 📚

skz reacting to you having a subscription to their bubble | (part 2) 📙

skz react: to you leaving without saying goodbye / giving them a goodbye kiss 📙

📚 @hyunsllvr 📚

asking bf!skz for a signed pc/album from another member 📙

📚 @hyunverse 📚

random boyfriend text 📙

I

📚 @ihave-atummyache 📚

Whipped 📙

📚 @il-i-sam 📚

bff!skz get jealous and end up confessing 📙 📘

bf!skz + birthday surprises 📙

📚 @imagine-a-life-like-this 📚

bf!skz convinces s/o to take a break 📙

bff!skz comforts reader about weight insecurities 📙 📘

bff!skz comforts you after rejection 📙 📘

talking contact names with bff!skz 📙

asking bff!skz to be your fake boyfriend 📙

bff!skz saves reader after they got lost 📙

reader distances themselves from bff!skz(part 1) |(part 2 hyung line) | (part 2 maknae line) 📙 📘

bf!skz calls s/o clingy when they ask for cuddles | (apologies) 📙 📘

storming out after a fight with bff!skz 📙 📘

bff!skz gets jealous when another idol asks for readers number 📙 📘

argument with bff!skz | (part 2) 📙 📘

bff!skz saving reader from a bad date 📙

bf!skz finding out you bias another member 📙

📚 @izuhan 📚

when he sees you sleeping outside his place after a fight 📙 📘

📚back to rec list📚

#stray kids #skz #skzoo #fic rec #fic recs #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #fan fic rec #fan fic recs #stray kids imagine #stray kids reaction #stray kids reactions #feelbokkie recs #reader x stray kids #skz x reader #reader x skz

[hyunsvngs]

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her. 

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed. 

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore. 

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness. 

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.” 

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had. 

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth. 

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth. 

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival. 

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch. 

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively. 

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film. 

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right. 

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you. 

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday. 

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now. 

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again. 

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation. 

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect. 

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room.  He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.” 

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you. 

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker. 

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly. 

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made. 

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully. 

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation. 

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need. 

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.” 

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw. 

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened. 

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too. 

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure. 

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message. 

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top. 

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.” 

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you. 

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you. 

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you. 

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again. 

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex. 

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you. 

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted. 

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die. 

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable. 

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

#juno's fics ♡ #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan fanfic #chan fic #chan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz imagines #skz fanfiction #skz fic #skz fanfic #juno's fics: bad idea

[hanalulugguk]

Three

Fast Times || Lee Felix

Pairings: Lee Felix x fem oc

genre: fluff, non-idol AU

Warnings: none.

Word count: 4.7 k

(not proof read!)

Note: i’m having so much fun writing this story. thank you for all the interactions with the past two chapters i appreciate it <3 

these may seem slow and uneverntful but that’s because i plan on making this series a bit long so i want to introduce my characters properly.

lixie starts appearing more from this chapter forward <3

Enjoy <3

It’s saturday. Meaning for now, it’s a free day to do whatever till university work starts getting hectic and luna and eunbi barely see each other except for meal time, which even that is different for both of them most times.

Since they had the day off, eunbi and luna spent the majority of the morning cleaning the apartment. Deep cleaning. Luna’s favourite and eunbi’s most hated chore.

The two are very lenient when it comes to house chores. They each have their part. Luna cooks most meals, organizes and cleans. Eunbi tidies up and does the dishes, as well as keep an eye on the instant ramen and snacks stored. Whenever either gets busy, the other carries their role with no bother. Their living dynamics works very well, and they’re both very comfortable in it. Deep cleaning is mostly luna’s thing, but eunbi insists on helping every time, mostly with things like carrying the couch back so they don’t drag it across the floor or so luna doesn’t keep going back and forth. She also helps put things back into their place when luna is done. 

Laundry is usually done depending on the load. If it’s a bigger load, luna is more patient with separating and doing a few washes. If it’s a smaller load, eunbi takes over.

They’re usually done by noon, if eunbi had slept, they’d both go grocery shopping, if not luna would go alone. Today it was the latter. 

“Text me anything you want that’s not on the list.” luna pokes eunbi as she exits the bathroom after her shower.

The list on the white magnetic board on the fridge. The one they use to note things for each other like, ‘we need yoghurt’ or ‘i left some food for you, have a proper breakfast, not cereal’

Luna goes into her room, coco following behind, she unwraps the towel over her hair and brushes it through after putting in her products. 

She ruffles up her curls a little before pulling out some clothes. Before the grocery store she needs to take coco on a walk since she wasn’t able to this morning due to their cleaning. So she needed something comfortable. 

She pulled out a fitted dark grey long sleeved square neckline top and loose grey jeans. Upon changing she didn’t bother taking off her house shorts, since they were already men’s briefs and she would be wearing them again in a few hours. The pants hung too loose though so she tried to find the only belt she had. She couldn’t, probably somewhere at the bottom of her closet but she couldn’t bother to push through and look for them. 

She threw her shirt on and slipped on some socks with her platform white shoes to keep her pants from dragging over the ground. Most of her shoes were chunky or platform because most of her pants were long and baggy. That lead to her never being her height and constantly looking taller. Always escaping the 5’5 allegations, it started off unintentionally but she started liking always having to look down at people instead, self conceited but fun.

She put her skincare on and a very light tap of blush. She didn’t bother with anything else but her brows since she’ll be wearing sunglasses anyway. 

She diffused her hair and tucks some of it behind her ear, curls constantly falling in her face. She pulled out coco’s collar, just then noticing the grey that matched her dog’s hair also matched her outfit.

“Coco we’re matching,” she coos at the uninterested dog who was just happy at the sight of her collar. She secures it around her neck as her phone dings. 

Checking it, she saw a text from eunbi with the things she wanted, she adds them to the list once she receives another text. 

Eunbi: pay with our card, don’t be sneaky

Luna smiles as she slips her phone and card holder in her pockets. They sit comfortably, how wonderful men’s pants are. 

She slips her headphones on and exits with coco’s leash in hand. They take a nice long walk for 30 minutes, with a quick park stop for coco to roll around the grass a little since she’ll be given a shower tonight anyway. 

Coco likes night shower, why? It’ll always be a mystery. But whenever she takes her showers at night it’s like she’s given an extra life, she’s enjoying the air from the blow drier and jumping around. she’s bouncy and cuddly and gets very playful. Whenever she showers in the morning she hates, she barks and tries to attack the blow dryer despite her being a very calm dog most of the time. She likes to be left alone and not touched and eats very little. Almost reminds her of eunbi.

After their quick park stop, luna passes by the cafe to grab a coffee before she heads back to drop coco off and go to the store. She pushes the door open a little hesitantly, she doesn’t want to be told to leave because of coco and the owner had no signs on whether pets were allowed or not. She pauses her music on her way in. 

With coco tucked in her arm, tail happily wagging with her tongue stuck out in exhaustion, she goes up to the counter, the girl behind the counter recognizes her and instantly notices the dog in luna’s arms.

She puts her hands over her mouth at the sight, “oh hello.” she coos at coco which gives luna instant relief. “What’s her name?” she asks luna as she extends her hand but doesn’t touch, probably to keep her hands clean for the customers. “Coco.” luna replies with a smile.

“Hi coco,” she uses a baby voice this time. “I’m sorry, what can i get you?” she apologizes getting ready to punch in her order. “It’s okay, i was a little worried she wouldn’t be allowed.” luna says patting coco’s head. 

“Oh no they’re allowed. Even if they weren’t she would be. Right coco?” luna smiles gratefully at the gesture. “I’ll have an iced latte with almond milk and a water please. But in a cup not a bottle.” 

“Absolutely, anything else?”

“No thank you,” luna handes her card to the lady as she scans it. As she hands her the card and receipt back she asks, “can i ask what your name is?” 

“Aera.” she replies with a smile making luna nod and smile back. “I’m luna.” 

“That’s a very pretty name.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“I’ll get your drink ready.” Aera steps back and luna moves to the pick up spot to wait. 

“Hey luna, “ 

Luna turns around to see changbin standing behind her with both hands in his pocket. He had on black jeans and a light wash denim button up. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes were a little puffy. It looked like he woke up not too long ago.

“Hi changbin.” his eyes shoot to the dog in her hands, luna notices, and offers “do you wanna pet her?” changbin looks from the dog to luna as he nods in question.

“Yeah go ahead, she’s a people person.” at thank changbin scratches coco’s head and she leans into his touch making him smile.

“What’s her name?” he asks looking up at lun from where he leaned to be eye level with coco.

“Her name’s Coco,” 

“Iced americano, iced latte with almond milk and a water.”  changbin steps aside to grab his coffee, luna following. She places the plastic cup of water on the floor for coco and places the dog down to hydrate after her long walk. 

Changbin stares at the dog as she drinks. “How old is she?”

“She’s three,” luna replies taking a sip of her coffee. Tastes so good after such a long morning with more chores left to do.

“Oh she’s so tiny,” he points out bending to pat her head as she drink. 

“Yeah they don’t grown much more than this. She has so much life in her though, she goes feral when we’re play fighting.” luna points out making him chuckle.

“How was your first week?” changbin asks as he stands up, placing a hand in his pocket as he grips his cup in the other.

“It was fine, nothing too extreme happened, how was yours?” luna leans her weight on one foot as she crosses her arm under her other one that had her coffee.

“It was fine, have 3 courses i already hate”

“Oh that was quick.” she jokes making him snort. “Yeah, but it’s okay though, they seem relatively easy.” she nods not knowing exactly how to carry the conversation past that.

“I’ll get back to my friend, he's waiting for me, have a nice rest of the day.” changbin points to a table behind where an unfamiliar boy sat on his phone. “Yeah, you too.” she politely responds and he bends down to give the dog who was now lying patiently on the floor one last pat on the head.

“Bye coco, bye luna.” 

“Bye changbin.”

Luna picks up her dog along with the now empty cup as she turns to try and spot the cashier, “bye Aera,” she calls out when she does. Aera turns around to see her and waves at her. Luna discards the cup before leaving.

Once outside, she places coco back on the floor, her leash in hand as they make their way back home. Once her paws are cleaned up, leash off and her bed and toys are pulled out from under the couch for her. “Your bowls are both full in the kitchen okay baby. Don’t bother aunty eunbi.” luna coos at coco as she places a kiss on top of her head. “She’ll eat you.” she jokingly whispers to the dog who pulls a fearful face.

She chuckles giving her one last kiss before heading out again but with her bag and two folded tote bags this time. Since she doesn’t take any transportation to the store she always has to walk back to the apartment with the bags of food, and based off past experiences, those plastic bags are not strong enough to last the whole way back.

She has since learned to take two big tote bags to put everything in to make the trip back easier and less frantic. All the strength training in the gym is really paying off in these weekly grocery store trips. 

The walk to the grocery store is a little over 15 minutes. The weather is nice and the sun isn’t too hot, so it’s a nice walk. Luna enjoys trips to the grocery store, it’s one of her favourite things. She’s grown up cooking and baking with her mum and grandmother, being an only child for so long her mum and grandmother always catered to her and had time for her. Her favourite memories growing up were in the kitchen with her grandmother.

From helping ice the birthday cakes, mixing the batter, to being the one to press the on button on the mixer to make the soup, to being the one to cook and bake for them when she goes back home. Growing up, Luna was always close to her family, always loved and protected them just how they loved and protected her. So many of her memories that she loves and looked back at when she would feel homesick were with her family. She loved them dearly and wholly. They were always the ones she would turn to and still are. 

So the little things like baking, cooking, going to the grocery store, taking a walk in the early morning like she always did with her grandmother back home, these were all things that grounded her really well and she couldn’t let go of them. 

Upon arriving at the store, she pulls out a cart and begins picking up all the things missing at home. She even derives from the list and picks up some things she recalls eunbi and her liked. When she passed by the spices section she halted for a bit, not used to the selection. She used to bringing all the spices she uses and they have at home when she travels or when eunbi’s mum visits, but since neither has happened in the past few months they were left to the demise of grocery store selection, which to be fair, is a lot better than luna had thought would be. 

“Is there anything specific you need?” after a few minutes of staring down the spices whilst only picking out sesame seeds and hot chilli flakes, she can understand why she would seem lost to the workers. But when she turns around she isn’t faced with a worker, but just a random guy standing next to her in a black shirt and grey sweatpants. He stood only a few inches taller than her with his arm leaned over his own half full cart. He had a lot of meat stacked up with beer and other side items. She didn’t look, it was just hard not to notice.

“You don’t work here.” she stated pointing at his attire, “i’m just helping no need to make it weird.” he joked making her reach up to pause her music and cross her arms. 

“Forceful, aren’t we?” she points out, making him laugh, “if you’re good i’ll just keep going.” he states pointing to the end of the aisle where he was headed. 

“Keep going then,” she steps aside, allowing him space to walk past, but he doesn’t. “What? Stuck to the ground?” she asks him, raising her brows. 

“Wow, you’re funny,” he says but she can’t tell if he’s being genuine or sarcastic. “So i’ve been told.” she stares him down.

“Alright i’ll get going, don’t wanna bother you,” he says pushing his cart to begin to move before she replies, “too late,” he chuckles looking away and gives her a nod making her scrunch her face up. 

She wasn’t actually bothered, she just doesn’t like overly confident guys.

After he’s gone she picks up two packs of crushed nori, garlic and onion powder and moves on. She grabs the rest of the list, picks up some liquid soup and stacks up on eunbi’s favourite iced tea that tastes like bitter cough drop syrups and checks out. Obviously using their shared card for bills and utilities. 

When done she packs everything into the tote bags, but makes sure anything breakable is wrapped in plastic bags before she leaves. The trip back home is a little longer, mainly because of the extra weight added on.

Halfway through Luna pauses, as she usually does, to take a quick break. She halts for a minute or so before she’s back to moving again. She arrives home, takes a quick look around the hallway before entering the code into the security and carrying the bags inside being greeted by coco who pattered around her all the way to the kitchen. 

Once inside she tosses her hair up and starts putting everything away, when she’s done she begins making dinner. She decided on miso ramen since eunbi had been talking about it a lot recently and there wasn’t anything specific luna craved.

She connects her phone to the speaker but doesn’t turn the music up too loudly so she doesn’t wake up eunbi before the food is ready and she’s rested enough. It takes around 40 minutes to get everything done and ready. She goes to change before she wakes eunbi. Clothes off, folded and house shirt back on, then she’s off to proceed waking her roommate up with caution.

When she enters the room it’s pitch black, she almost got a heart attack when she thought all the clothes piled up on the desk chair is a person. 

“Eunbi,” she calls softly as she reaches the bed, shaking the girl a little before she grumbles, “get up it’s past 5,” she whispers again but gets nothing in return but eunbi covering her head in the covers. 

“Yah, eunbi” she’s a little louder this time. “I made food,” at that she hears her clear her throat, “what’d you make?”

“Miso ramen.” 

In the blink of an eye luna is pushed aside as eunbi’s feet patter against the floor as she hurries to the kitchen. “Bitch,” luna chuckles as she takes the covers off the floor and tosses them on the bed.

She goes out to join a no longer grumpy looking eunbi at the table who was sitting with her chopsticks in one hand, soup spoon in the other, waiting for luna.

“Thank you for waiting,” luna chuckles as she sits down and they both start eating, “of course, i’m a loyal friend.” 

“Of course you are,”

They eat in silence with very minimal talking, luna exhausted from a long day and eunbi still being half asleep. 

By the time the dishes were washed and everything was in place, the left over ramen place in the fridge and being left with nothing to do, both girls ended up on the couch with coco on luna’s lap. 

Eunbi sighs heavily as she leans into the couch cushions enough for them to lock her in place, “what are YOU sighing at? You slept most of the day.” luna shoves eunbi’s leg with her foot making eunbi whine.

“I slept 8 hours total today,” she whines kicking her feet as she settles back again. “We could watch a movie,” luna suggests, already grabbing the remote to turn on the tv. 

“Horror?”

“NO!”

Luna lets out a menacicle laugh at eunbi’s horrified look and scream, “i will not be subjected to your self inflecting torture again. You wanna watch these nightmare inducing movies do it by yourself, don’t drag me into it.”

“Miss congeniality?”

“Yes, give me pick me sandra bullock. Better than watching children talk to ghosts and inviting them to murder their family.”

“You’re being over dramatic.” luna states turning on the movie as they both scoot closer and bring coco in the middle so all three were huddled up together. “But am i really?” eunbi asks unwrapping the blanket draped over the couch’s arm rest. “You absolutely are,” luna retorts and the two fall silent afterwards, knowing very well eunbi is in fact very dramatic. 

“You know we could have simply just placed the tv closer to the couch if i knew it was going to be like this,” eunbi, when they’re almost halfway through the movie, comments after watching luna squint for the 100th time to see. 

“It’s never too late to rearrange,” luna says settling back into the couch after not being able to read the subtitle fast enough because she was squinting too hard and had to reread the first 3 words twice. 

“Don’t you have glasses for this exact reason? You know, to see?” eunbi sarcastically says making luna smack her arm, “i do wear them,”

“You pretend to wear them,” she corrects pointing an accusing finger at her but she swats it away, before she can defend herself, or attempt to because she had nothing to say, luna’s phone vibrates between them.

“Answer before it pulls an orgasm out of me,” eunbi nudges her when she notices she makes no attempt to reach for her phone, “eeww,” luna winces as eunbi just giggles going back to the movie.

Upon seeing it’s mingi luna answers and puts him on speaker. “Hey girlie,” she greets holding the phone between them.

“What are you guys doing?”

“We’re watching a movie and talking about how luna needs to start using her glasses before she goes blind,” eunbi replies upon hearing mingi over the phone, “yeah that’s true, let me in.”

“Don’t you think you should let us know before you come over?” luna says already pulling her feet from under her to get up. 

“Yeah what if we’re not at home?” 

“Or we’re home and we’re naked?”eunbi asks, raising her voice to reach the phone that was already further from her.

Lun looks back at her with a questioning look, “why would both of you be naked at the same time?” mingi asks with a laugh.

“Why not?” luna defends even though she also does not agree, “well then it’ll be fine, you said i’m one of the girls.” mingi retorts making luna nod her head as she opens the door letting him in. 

“That is very true,” she says stepping aside to let mingi in, he takes his shoes off and slips on luna’s fluffy platform flipflops instead of his designated dark blue ones. “Theif.” she comments closing the door, hearing it automatically lock behind her as they both head to the living room. “You weren’t wearing them.” he reasons simply. 

“Hey minmin,” eunbi lifts her hand up for a high five which mingi gives before plopping down where luna was. “Hey that’s my place,” luna points out making mingi take the smallest, most tiny step to the side as he gives her a smug smile.

Luna, stubborn, shoves herself between the two, mingi fake whines but snuggles into her once she’s settled. Eunbi unpauses the movie as the three of them silently watch the rest of it. 

“Eric matthews’ a pussy.” eunbi states right before the credits start rolling.

“That he is.” luna agrees as mingi nods, “didn’t step up to do shit even when gracie did,”

“Pussy,” eunbi repeats bitterly, “i need to pee.” luna points out, “did you raise your hand?” mingi asks side eyeing her. She does the same “i’m letting you know so you can get off me.” she nods towards his feet that somehow made their way onto her lap with his head on her shoulder. 

“Hmm, good point.” he says but makes no effort to move. “I’ll pee on you.” 

“No need to tell me thrice,” he says quickly scooting aside for luna to get up. When she does mingi looks over at eunbi who was dozing off, “go sleep in your bed.” he instructs but she doesn’t reply.

“I won’t carry you,” he points out and she scoffs, “luna’s the one that carries me to bed.” 

“Yeah that’s true. Still, go sleep in your bed, you’ll get back pain from this position.”

“Luna suggested i stay up at least till 10 so i can get my sleeping schedule fixed.” eunbi says letting out a very loud yawn, it was still 8. 

“Suggested.” mingi repeats in an attempt to point out, no one is forcing her to stay up. 

“Yeah you’re right,” she says getting up and slipping her feet into her flipflops just as luna came back, “where are you going?”

“How do you pee so fast?” mingi asks looking up at her from the couch below her.

“I even wiped and washed my hands,” she taunts making him pull stank face whilst giving her a thumbs up, “you’re so cool.” 

“I’m going to bed,” eunbi replies giving luna a quick pat on her butt before going to the kitchen for some water before bed. “But i wanted us to watch the princess diaries.” 

“Watch it with mingi,” she says rinsing the cup and putting it back in the cupboard. “I really can’t stay up any longer.” eunbi explains making luna nod. 

“How long has she been up?” mingi whispers to luna, “3 hours,” she whispers back before turning towards eunbi.

“Good night love,” luna blows eunbi a kiss as she smiles and blows one back. 

“Night minmin,” she waves and he waves back, “night eun-ie.”

She smiles before heading to her room. 

“Why don’t you wanna skip the gym in the morning and go at night with me?” he asks luna as she gets back in her spot on the couch, “i like working out in the morning, good morning cholesterol pump and the gym is empty.”

“Come once at least. Changbin and i have really good workouts in the afternoon, the gym is usually empty at night.”

“You AND changbin? I don’t know changbin that well to workout with him.”

“He’s nice.”

“What part of i don’t know changbin that well entails that i think he’s a menace to society?” luna asks confused as she looks down, or tries to, at mingi who’s settled on her shoulder again. 

“I’m just saying,” replies simply, shrugging. “I’m just saying too. Changbin is nice, but i don’t know him well enough to workout with him and be comfortable. Also i don’t like to socialize in the gym.”

“Oh you’re one of those?” he asks making her nudge his head, “i’ve always been one of those, isn’t that why you guys didn’t like me at first?” 

“No, we didn’t say we didn’t like you, we were just a little scared of you. You haven’t seen your resting face.” mingi defends looking up at her, she just hums in response, then they’re both quiet as she starts looking for the movie.

“Is princess diaries good?”

“So good,” luna says simply.

“Wait,” mingi grabs her hand before she starts the movie, “i’m hungry.”

luna stares at him, waiting for more because this can’t possibly be all he has to say. “And? Want me to fix you a meal?” she asks sarcastically, making mingi shrug. “I mean i wouldn’t mi- ow.” he’s caught mid sentence when she hits him on the head with the closest pillow she could reach. 

“Fine, do you have any more of the seaweed chips?” he asks getting up and heading to the kitchen, “yeah, there’s left over miso ramen in the fridge, heat it up.”

Mingi squeals in excitement as he opens the fridge to take out the covered bowl, “ you’re so sweet you know that?” he asks popping the bowl into the microwave.

“I do, but it’s funny how that only occurs to you when i’ve fed you.”

“I still haven’t been fed,” he points out nodding towards the rotating bowl in the microwave. “Good point, say it again when you’ve been fed then.” 

By 10:30 the movie was done and upon knowing halfway through that there’s a second part, mingi insisted they watch it, but by the time the first one was done he was already knocked out. Luna gently got up, placed his head on a cushion and covered him properly with the blanket.

Mingi has slept over so many times by now that he’s the sole reason the couch has been this soft and comfortable sit on within the first month of moving on. 

She goes to the kitchen to boil some water for tea, the only time in the day where she drinks tea in the summer. when done, Luna turns off the lights and heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once done she goes to her room where she notices coco on her bed snoring. She coos silently at the dog before proceeding to put her hair up, oil her nails, stretch her muscles and slide into bed. 

She pulls out her phone once snuggled between her big fluffy pillows that she can’t sleep without. For her to have a good night sleep luna needs to feel surrounded, enveloped. Without it she barely ever falls asleep. 

First instagram, her inactive twitter account, and finally 30 minutes of tiktok scrolling before she realizes she’s seen over 50 more videos after she said she’ll see one last video. Luna isn’t a high social media consumer.

She enjoys posting, she likes taking pictures of things around her, the sky, her coffee, the way her shoes and pants overlap nicely making it look cool to her. She doesn’t post all of them, but most of them at least. She barely scrolls through her feed, she knows that if she does she’ll start getting these thoughts that she does not want. So instead, she posts, disappears, replies to comments after days and then repeats. 

All her accounts are public, but none of them garner any sort of buzz, but she does leave them accessible since she simply doesn’t care whether on private or not. Either way, she only follows who she wants, not who she feels like she owes a polite follow because they saw her a few times and chose to follow her. 

When her tea is finished, with one last sip left, as always, and her phone is almost dead, she sets it on the charger and turns off her side lamp. Drifting off to sleep to her dog’s rhythmic snoring. 

i’ll post the next part once this reaches 30 likes/reblogs <3

#Lee felix #felix lee #stray kids #stray kids felix #stray kids lee felix #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids x oc #stray kids x y/n #stray kids boyfriend #boyfriend #felix fanfic #felix boyfriend #felix fluff #felix fanfiction #fanfic #stray kids felix x reader #stray kids felix fanfic #fanfiction #reader x stray kids #stray kids x stay #stay

[thunderous-wolf]

Thoughtz Masterlist

Thoughtz is a compilation of drafts of fanfic that I've had in my notes for a while. They're unedited and most are unfinished. Since I do not feel motivated enough to finish them (unless they become very popular, then I'll consider, finishing them). I'm posting them all for you to read. Enjoy~

Please DO NOT copy, translate or steal my works

The Ball Dance

Royalty/Nobility AU

Skz Member (surprise) x fem!reader

Drunk Dazed

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

It's basically a fever dream

Bangchan x fem!reader

L.O.V.E#

Rock Band AU

Lee Know x fem!reader

Just Beachy

Coming soon!!!

A chance encounter at the ocean

Bangchan x fem!reader

El Dia y la Noche

Coming soon?

Mafia AU

Felix x fem!reader

#thoughtz #i.n skz #i.n x reader #i.n stray kids #i.n #yang jeongin #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz #reader x stray kids #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids channie #stray kids chris #stray kids bang chan #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #bangchan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader

[sunboki]

🛒 SKZ TEXTS — he accidentally spoils the proposal

including. ot8 :)

warnings. cursing

notes. don’t fear!! changbin is on the way!!!

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#stray kids fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #straykids x you #straykids x reader #skz fluff #straykids fluff #straykids angst #skz angst #stray kids angst #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #leeknow x y/n #leeknow x you #leeknow x reader #seo changbin x y/n #seo changbin x reader #changbin x y/n #changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x reader